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11-10-2012, 12:35 PM
(This post was last modified: 11-21-2012, 02:22 PM by Cassiopeia.)
Small pearls of precipitation fell from the sky like cool pellets of thoughts, and they streaked as slender rivulets down the roan mare's silken fur. It was a soothing rendition of a storm, and the clouds which loomed ahead, angry and withering, played across the sky like a shadow theater. The dissonance of thunder was a distant grumble; perhaps the voice of a storm raging farther north in the desert, or perhaps above the seemingly endless sea. The waves thrashed, their froth-tipped crests spiraling and leaping as a legion of angry lions, roars peeling from their indigo peaks as they crashed against the shore. They produced an ironically tranquil sonance as the mare and foal basked in the final, dying breaths of sunlight and now the steady cloudburst. A voice permeated the silence then, and the roan maiden's ears percolated atop the summit of her head. She had seen the mare before. She had set her broken wing on the beach the day she had been attacked, and she watched her intently as she made her approach. Azulee hardly noticed the newcomer, for she was busy attempting to nibble on the sea grass as her mother had. She pulled a stalk into her petite mouth and worked it between her teeth, but soon became appalled by the saline bitterness. "What news do you bring?" Came the dame's suave voice, concern laced within that simple phrase. Azulee finally became aware of the equine and pranced toward her mother, watching the flightless woman curiously. |
