the Rift


[PRIVATE] My thoughts are the cold kind

Erthë Posts: 440
Outcast atk: 5.5 | def: 8.5 | dam: 5.5
Filly :: Hybrid :: 14,2 hh :: 3 years HP: 64.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Chan
#1
Erthë

She missed the snow. When the days grew longer and the temperature rose, Erthë was again reminded how much of a winter's child she truly was. Though she had spent most of this Frostfall cooped up in the Edge, confined beneath stormy skies and trapped within the frost-powdered evergreens, she had still been more or less content. Though injuries and scars prevented her from going where she wished, though recuperation dragged out endlessly with no true recovery within sight, the ice and cold had still made the days bearable, some days even enjoyable.

But now... Now the heat rose with every passing day, and the bustling activity of wildlife around her once again reminded the young mare that she was indeed trapped. As she wandered the well-trodden paths with cool moss dampening her cloves and the fresh leaves breaking out on every branch overhead, she felt short of breath, as though something was constricting her lungs. Unable to see the endless blue of the sky... it was claustrophobic, maddening, heartbreaking. Yet... standing on the cliffs with the wide open sky stretching out before her, the horizon seemingly close enough to touch if she but reached far enough... That was even worse. Because it would be all too easy to spread her wings, take off and let the wind carry her whenever, so very easy to forget that flying was one thing, and landing another altogether different matter.

Realizing that her feet once again had turned her towards the sun-bathed cliffs, Erthë sighed and veered off away from the path, slowly meandering off into the pathless depths of the forest. Mists closed in around her and swirled around white wings that would not quite settle, the hazy dance as lazy as she felt hectic, as languid as she was restless. In a fit irritation she reached out with her mind and touched the budding flowers that lay scattered in her path, leaving a trail of destruction in her wake.

It was petty, Erthë knew that. Who was she to deny the joy of rebirth with her deadly cold? But the sight of all the splendor around her only seemed to darken her mood further, and so just this once, unable to find any other way to relieve herself of all the pent up frustration, she allowed herself to wallow in vindictive pleasure.

Only for a while, she told herself as she crushed a tuft of wild strawberry flowers under foot. Just this once, as a musical of fiddlehead ferns was coated in glistening, icy needles, leaving naught but sodden goo when the frost finally melted.

"Take that" she whispered, and the cloud of winters breath that rose from her lips congealed around the pale splendor of a stray apple tree, its sheer blossoms dyed soft hues of white and pink suddenly trapped beneath layers of ice.

It made her feel a bit better, but the smile that twisted her features was dark and grim, not at all the usual bright grin, so full of light.


You're so cold
but you feel alive

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@Toulouse

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