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11-08-2015, 09:01 PM
In his home of vast and dry plains, the rain was something to rejoice in. When the great rains came, the earth greened and preened herself; a plumage of new feathers abounding from her moistened soils. Life leapt from the very ground, as frogs awoke from their dirt-bound slumbers, arising from the rich and red mud. Rivers and lakes sprouted to life, gleaming beneath a sky full of branching heat lightning. It was glorious, and perhaps the one thing he missed of Dorobo. For rain here, which fell in cold and never-ending sheets, did nothing for the already-green earth and already-soaked soil. No, this rain drowned the plants and left muddy trails in its wake. And it was not warm, like the balmy drops of Dorobo. It ran in rivulets over his massive body, eking out his heat with each dribble. The lightning here— it was nothing like the illuminating streaks of the plains that spread and branched across the sky, never touching earth. The lightning here struck at the earth with each booming crack, like electrical spears trying to catch the world on fire. Plagued with this alien sense of homesickness, he plodded along the borderlands. It was strange, meandering the trees without their mists; yet the trunks were still shrouded with rain. He walked his endless pace to generate some kind of warmth in his muscles— to keep the chill at bay. His mind floated in the ethereal woods, thoughts as nebulous as his murky surroundings while his body automatically wound his great bulk through the trees. Suddenly he found his hoof hanging in midair, thick column of a leg arrested mid-step. His ears flicked forward, mind grappling at its indistinct web, attempting to figure out why his autopilot leg had malfunctioned. But it hadn't malfunctioned, he slowly realized as his eyes focused. There was a mass of white, wet strands beneath his hoof. Strands that were a tail. A tail attached to an antlered, slender equine body. Dark blue eyes slowly traced up to the collapsed mare’s face, his rain-numbed mind returning to the present with a jerk. Gently, he replaces his large hoof (carefully not on the generously flowing locks of the mare). Though his gaze could not leave her face— she was beautiful. Collapsed, exhausted, thin, but still striking. Her pale coat stood out against the shadows and glowed with each damning lightning strike. At another strike of light, his cobalt gaze found the griffon standing watch over the mare. At another, he found Mauja standing opposite her, saying what he assumed to be her name (Arah?). His perked, cream ears barely heard his spotted friend’s voice, though he could hear the undercurrents of concern. In that, the elephant wholeheartedly agreed, for her slender frame leaned so heavily against the tree. And her belongings were strew haphazardly about her. He nodded once to his leopard friend, meeting his eyes with his own concerned ones, before dropping his attention to the elegantly antlered mare, “Are you—” He stops himself from asking the idiotic question— because it is clear to him that she is not alright. Instead, his low voice rumbles through the rain, “What brings such a beautiful woman to the Edge in this weather?” |
- table by Niki -
I wasn't sure at what point in the timeline this is, so I left it open.
Please tag Tembovu.
