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12-11-2012, 11:27 PM
(This post was last modified: 12-11-2012, 11:28 PM by Random Event.)
From the waters rises the beautiful figure of a pale and ethereal armored mare. Her eyes are the deepest of blues, her coat the gentlest of hues. From her brow rise two great antlers, along her back are laid the starry pelts of snow foxes and fallen arctic beasts. White fur mixes with darker hues and a cold wind that has followed her from her frozen heaven ruffles the gathered furs. Powerful and purposeful, she steps towards her fellow mare, and lowers her adorned head in greeting. Upon closer inspection, one can see leather straps strung between her antlers and gems like the eyes of her kills dangling from the strands of her smoke-made mane.
Water that once crashed against her now flows within her, carrying with it the magic of the grove and its soothing light. Lace is inconsequential to her for the moment; she is a lover once spurned, one that knows the steps of a stallion's dance better than any other. Her deep eyes cast their wary glance upon him, her lioness' tail whips in warning. She will save him for later.
But for the moment she bows to Faelene, exhaling frozen stardust and breathing in life from the grove. "A mare as strong as yourself deserves something to show for it, Faelene," comes a voice, seemingly detached from the ethereal mare as she stands with lips tightly closed. She speaks into the minds of the pair with a voice that echoes like thunder yet whispers like a rushing tide. "I give to you a pelt of your choosing; a pelt which will forge for you the armor of kings." She seems sure and steady as he gaze catches the other mare's and locks onto it. There is a connection here that Lace is not a part of- at least not for the moment.
Water that once crashed against her now flows within her, carrying with it the magic of the grove and its soothing light. Lace is inconsequential to her for the moment; she is a lover once spurned, one that knows the steps of a stallion's dance better than any other. Her deep eyes cast their wary glance upon him, her lioness' tail whips in warning. She will save him for later.
But for the moment she bows to Faelene, exhaling frozen stardust and breathing in life from the grove. "A mare as strong as yourself deserves something to show for it, Faelene," comes a voice, seemingly detached from the ethereal mare as she stands with lips tightly closed. She speaks into the minds of the pair with a voice that echoes like thunder yet whispers like a rushing tide. "I give to you a pelt of your choosing; a pelt which will forge for you the armor of kings." She seems sure and steady as he gaze catches the other mare's and locks onto it. There is a connection here that Lace is not a part of- at least not for the moment.
