the Rift


[PRIVATE] The Desert Babbler

Maren the Crownless Posts: 264
Outcast atk: 5 | def: 9.5 | dam: 6
Mare :: Pegasus :: 15.0 :: 6 HP: 70 | Buff: NOVICE
Mr. Teatime :: Siberian Tiger :: Sing Yewrezz
#1


BY THE PRECEPTS OF HER PURITY

Like often, she was at sea, looking out over the two coastlines, her head hanging in silence over the edge of the boat’s planking.

Sometimes she felt like her talents were wasting away, like raindrops falling into the everlasting thirst of the desert’s soil, if not left to evaporate in the lazy sunlight.  
Sometimes she felt like she could just... Drift. Away.

Her light-colored lashes fluttered in the frame of her golden eyes. In the east with the rising sun lay the shapes of the Dragon's Throat. Like an ants-nest, little dots of ponies shuffled on the horizon swarmed on and off. The winds soaring the Throat’s shores were different than the ones of the northern mountains. Salty, fresh. Free of the discomfort, rusty scents and the pushy whisperings of fools. It sang different songs, memories of long forgotten oaths, but even here she could distinguish familiar tunes, still echoing in the winds, even now. But she left it as it was, pretended happily she didn’t hear them, still and silent like the eye of the storm. She breathed in the air; clean and mellow in her lungs. A caress for scars from rusted wounds, only visible on the inside.

A weight slid off from her back, fell with a thud into the deep vee of the boat. In responds of the sudden rocking, Maren turned her head to see that the sleeping tiger cub had woken up on the hard wood. “Would you not disrupt my thoughts?” But the cub didn’t hear as it slept through, his weight spread out in fluff in the vessel’s gutter. She huffed into the wind. “Tie a rope around you and it would seem that I have found myself the perfect anchor.” However, there was a softness in her voice, a sign of amusement. Mr. Teatime had, after all, already proven himself useful enough as ballast, steadying the boat wherever she went.

While the boat was folding wakes in the water because of the commotions’ aftershock, Maren had spotted a figure on the coast. Someone is here to visit, she thought as she was now glancing over at the silhouettes' direction. Her eyes wandered past the horizon, looking perhaps for someone else more ready to answer this call. There did not seem to be anyone. hmmm, she huffed again, regretfully feeling like it was her duty to go. When Maren was at sea, thoughts didn’t seem to find her if she did not want them to. It was nice, illuminating. It also made her feel quite… lazy. Preferring to just look, she wondered what their thoughts were, how they decided to keep standing there until one of her kin decided they had stood there long enough to deserve their attention. Their method of transporting the wingless was, after all - however glorious - not ideal.  

After a few blinks of her eyes she let out her remaining row of thoughts. Then, however, she rotated the boat, bearing off into the direction of the mainland’s shoreline, a trail of mist following behind her. Although it was still frostfall, there was a light spring in the air; soft and subtle, and it pushed her and the clouds further towards the individual on the beach. Her ears lay folded forward. What was he doing there, who was he waiting for? Intrigued by the mystery, she found his features becoming sharper and, right before hitting the shore, under her breath she murmured. “Ashamin.”




Image Credits


@Ashamin <3  Sorry for lots of useless words, need to get back into it >>
Please tag me 


Forum Jump:


RPGfix Equi-venture