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11-24-2015, 10:23 PM
She is not quiet anymore.
Where she walks, water ripples and shines, trembling in fear; where she stops, ribs rising and falling with every mammoth breath, she looks to be a fortress unto herself, so supremely confident that it is difficult to imagine her former youth as a trembling waif and ghost-eyed walker. It is not just her draft heritage that gives her such size—credit is due more so to the hardness in her red eyes, the callous quirk to her ears, and the sharp cut to her smile. Empress or consort she was not, but for all the air she carried herself with, she may as well have been.
And this was her domain.
Nymeria wanders in beholden silence, with only her reflection and Lilómiel for company, and her head full of empty thoughts. Reality seemed to fade away around here; the endless sky and sea, the warped horizon, it created a fantastical environment that was more conductive to idle daydreams than action. She couldn't help but love it—and even embrace it.
It was not a thing most warlords' daughters should do. And perhaps that's what bothered her so much.
Nymeria was sick of what she thought she should do. She was sick of feeling the weight on her shoulders of long-abandoned obligations. She lived as a shell of what she could be—a broken promise, a wasted dream. And if she were to just reach out—shake herself awake... but that felt to be far away, and she was too fucking lazy for that kind of effort.
There's a scream and a body and a tangle of claws. Nym's head jerks, pupils dilating—and stares, abject and almost awed; and yet mostly confused beyond belief.
"What the fuck?"
Lilómiel screams back, ear-splitting and hair-raising, leaping upwards from his bonded's shoulders. Forward he drives, a fleeting shadow over the sea, his and his companion's thoughts intuitively linked—he thrusts his body towards the rougarou's, jaws dripping with flame, attempting to sear away the parasite from the hapless unicorn.
Naturally he's thinking something heroic.
Where she walks, water ripples and shines, trembling in fear; where she stops, ribs rising and falling with every mammoth breath, she looks to be a fortress unto herself, so supremely confident that it is difficult to imagine her former youth as a trembling waif and ghost-eyed walker. It is not just her draft heritage that gives her such size—credit is due more so to the hardness in her red eyes, the callous quirk to her ears, and the sharp cut to her smile. Empress or consort she was not, but for all the air she carried herself with, she may as well have been.
And this was her domain.
Nymeria wanders in beholden silence, with only her reflection and Lilómiel for company, and her head full of empty thoughts. Reality seemed to fade away around here; the endless sky and sea, the warped horizon, it created a fantastical environment that was more conductive to idle daydreams than action. She couldn't help but love it—and even embrace it.
It was not a thing most warlords' daughters should do. And perhaps that's what bothered her so much.
Nymeria was sick of what she thought she should do. She was sick of feeling the weight on her shoulders of long-abandoned obligations. She lived as a shell of what she could be—a broken promise, a wasted dream. And if she were to just reach out—shake herself awake... but that felt to be far away, and she was too fucking lazy for that kind of effort.
There's a scream and a body and a tangle of claws. Nym's head jerks, pupils dilating—and stares, abject and almost awed; and yet mostly confused beyond belief.
"What the fuck?"
Lilómiel screams back, ear-splitting and hair-raising, leaping upwards from his bonded's shoulders. Forward he drives, a fleeting shadow over the sea, his and his companion's thoughts intuitively linked—he thrusts his body towards the rougarou's, jaws dripping with flame, attempting to sear away the parasite from the hapless unicorn.
Naturally he's thinking something heroic.
I get high, and I love to get low
So the hearts keep breaking, and the heads just roll
@Sikeax
OOC: I apologize for this absolutely disgusting post. I promise it'll [
Additionally, attempted knight in shining armour hey-o? ;D
Yes I lied, don't think about you all the time
All my switchblade words ain't aim to cut your sweet delusions
