| World's Edge Nurse |
| Mare :: Equine :: 17.1 :: 9 |
| Adoptable |
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It was spring. Spring. New life, new times. There was a shape in the early morning mist, a tall form, still weighed down with a heavy coat of creams and stones. But here in the Meadow, the white snow was turning cinnamon brown, dusted with it in fact, and the powder that had melted was wet earth, slopping mud that oozed gelatinous-ly and slowly over the Meadow, a two-inch tall army that thickened towards the banks of the flooded river. There were one or two violet flowers springing up farther away, towards the sides of the Deep Forest, but here any fresh buds were quickly sunk by the mud pit the Thistle Meadow was swiftly becoming.
Tor wrinkled her upper lip ever so slightly as she sipped at the cool water. It had a slimy feel to it, probably due to the silt swirling at its bottom and debris picked up from far away, but it was cold and fresh to Tor's overheating body. It's about time to lose this heavy coat of hair. It was, Tor mused, for even with the sun hardly awake, she was already growing hot and rather more irritable than she liked. The healer preferred not to be a sour-faced ass, and when she acted as one, she despised herself for it. Yes, the pelt is causing all the problems. She lifted her ivory muzzle out of the water. Droplets of glittering water clung to her whiskers, reflecting the sun rising from the east over the Endless Blue. The white disk was breathing golden light over Helovia, pale light attaching themselves to trees, a stark contrast to the untouched shadows. Just as the sun kissed the blades of grass and the swirling mud and refracted into a thousand pieces on the swirling river, it burst into a million glowing colors in the mist veiling the world.
The air tasted fresh, with the clarity of pine dancing on the softest of breezes, so soft it didn't stir the mists, that came whispering. Ears twisted and turned, caught the chirp of the birds and the songs. Ochre eyes watched in gentle love as a fawn opposite of Tor, across the riverbank, sipped at the water, it's back covered in fresh white spots like leaves upon the dappled forest floor. A mother guided the little being, a big-eyed doe who watched Tor with cautious but unafraid eyes, as if knowing the draft was kinder than almost anything, or anyone.
It really was spring here, unlike the Steppe or the Arch. The stream was chattering, the birds were singing, and you could almost feel the warmth of the Sun God bringing the frozen tomb to life.
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T O R
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Image Credit [Bottom of Page]
WORDS OF COMPASSION ARE STRONGER THAN ANY ACT OF POWER.
 TAJHERI</style>
you should have learned by now, i'll burn this whole world down</style>
It was very safe to say that Tajheri was not the happiest equine in all of Helovia. He had only recently found his family and had become part of a herd when this stupid shit had started to happen. He didn't know why but his mane and tail had turned into something they shouldn't have been. Whenever he ran sweet stuff came out of his hair and it just pissed him off.
Such was the reason he stalked angrily through the meadow, splashing the muddy snow up over his legs. It painted his white markings a dull, dingy brown, but that was not what had the stallion concerned, nor were the healing wounds that were scattered across his pelt. No, he could deal with scars and he could deal with mud and blood and whatever else might splash up on his coat.
But what the fuck was going on with his hair?
Flat teeth gritted together as he continued to stomp angrily through the meadow until he spotted another horse in the distance. "You!" He barked at the mare as he stomped closer. Only then did he notice that her hair was the same as his. "What the fuck is going on here?" His tail lashed back and forth, threatening to spew a fountain of sprinkles at the movement.
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| World's Edge Nurse |
| Mare :: Equine :: 17.1 :: 9 |
| Adoptable |
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The morning was very quickly interrupted by a gruff voice that did not match the meadow's beautiful colors. Tor sighed, snorted softly, annoyed. It was a stallion, a stallion she immediately preferred no company to, a stallion who was stomping around like something terrible had happened.
He was handsome, and ugly, his pelt marred by scars and half-healed wounds, which was quite at odds with the fountain of sprinkles and icing and sugar falling from his mane and tail. "Excuse me, but I would appreciate it if you could keep a civil tongue in your head, youngster." Tor snapped. It was so very rare that her voice took on this hard edge, and even rarer that she disliked someone. But she did. Psyche, for one example, and this hooligan running around like he owned the place. The older mare gave him a withering look. "Look, colt, relax and calm down. If you're talking about the mud, it's called spring. And if you're talking about the manes and tails and whatnot, the gods must be doing something to make themselves laugh."
She gave one of her many sighs, relaxing her tense body.
T O R
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Image Credit [Bottom of Page]
WORDS OF COMPASSION ARE STRONGER THAN ANY ACT OF POWER.
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