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03-05-2016, 11:42 PM
To hold all the promise of blue-velvet dark and stars "Scrios Dé!" The bitter curse was strangely foreign in the idyllic setting of the quiet grove of willows, even stranger out of the mouth of the little faerie mare. Her normally sweet voice held an edge of anger that she she had so rarely felt or expressed in her life that even she looked startled as it came out of her mouth. But she didn’t have time to think about what her mother would say if she’d heard her using such language, the panic was beginning to set in. She had made it as far the the grove, reaching in in the idling hours of the morning and come to a dead end. The trail of the thief she had been trying to follow had long since been covered by the lightly falling snow and she was finally at a point where who could not longer even pretend she knew how to follow it anymore. They’d taken her dagger, no, not even really her dagger, the WHATCH’s dagger! Thunderhead had trusted her to use it for good, to keep it safe, and she’d let it be taken! Aisling had been scolding herself for days, ever since she’d woken up with a splitting headache and a bruised head to find her dagger missing. She wasn’t a tracker, that much was painfully true. She could be sneaky and quiet, but that didn’t mean she had a clue where the thief might have gone. She stopped, standing in the midst of the silent falling snow and cursing her lack of care. It was terrible irony that she could have used the darker itself to try and find what she was looking for… How could she go to Thunderhead and say she’d lost it? She had to get it back, but how? She listened, straining her ears in vain as iff the thief would just happen to come traipsing back in her direction. Her head turned slowly, eyes looking for some sign that anyone had passed this way, but the trail was truly gone, and she was truly fucked. "." |
[now come the days of the dreamer and they are filled with wonder and light ]
:: permission given for use of magic and force :: please tag Aisling in all posts ::
