Weeks had come and gone by. Nothing more than a fleeting mural that mapped another pavestone in her life; another cracked grave that harbored dark memories and chided her in it's deep, hollow voice. The more she thirsted for power the harder she seemed to fall, cracked, splintered and wounded on the sharp edges of her dreams - an arch angel, hurtling to an earth that she despised. Gone were the days of shaded kingdoms and dead forest, past were the hours that she had basked in the company of monarchs - spinning sordid tales finer than a widows gossamer web.
The white mare remained silenced by the weight of her thoughts, a ghastly mare both terrible and beautiful in her bewitching allure; her cold presence promising little warmth but the bitter chill of winter. Her light aura cast an illumination into the somber forest in which she found herself, opposite yet somehow a part of the flickering, looming shadows that draped between the silent boughs. The emptiness yawned around her, the days conversations and events mere whispers upon the faint nights breeze. Her strong bones trembled, lungs heaving shuddering breaths of exhaustion. The journey has been tiresome and fraught with dangers and discoveries alike - to embrace this brief moment of piece was a soothing balm to her wounded soul, one which was sure to be shattered soon.
ooc; terrible rushed post is terrible a rushed!
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table by foxy - image by Schristia on flickr
I saw no one had posted to you yet, so here, have a cat. ^^
 It wasn't that he minded the forest he'd found, just that he'd been bored and accidentally ended up going north again. With his wings clutched against his sides, Belial had gone out of the Deep Forest, leaving the strange mare and other things behind. Unfortunately, he'd also left the cool behind. The world out here was far hotter, but night had fallen and it was alright again. A faint breeze stirred, but otherwise all was silent and calm, standing still, as if waiting for something to happen. The large feline stepped easily on the rug of crunched leaves, claws sheathed and large pads molding themselves to the shape of the ground, easily carrying him through the forest. The last time he'd been here he'd met some colts and a filly, but he hadn't seen many others since then. Not that he cared - he preferred loneliness to the stares, but for some reason he'd gone up here again.
Silver moonlight made him seem gray instead of tan, and edged his unruly mane with near-white highlights. His eyes seemed darker as he slipped silently through the shadows, dappled by the play of light; thinking himself alone, he paused to stretch his wings. They spread out, large and beautiful, but the muscles underdeveloped, nearly atrophied. They were his biggest shame, his first hate - but he'd learned to live with them.
He froze; moonlight illuminated a mare, and he wondered why he'd not smelled her before he saw her. Then he realized the wind was not in his favor, and he'd probably not have noticed anyway. This entire continent stank of horse, so why should he care? Slowly he folded his great wings again, holding them tight against his broad chest, and slid up through the shadows. He had not intention of greeting her, just wanted to get a look; slightly taller than he, but slimmer, and much paler. She was beautiful, but seemed exhausted - she was pure to look at, like snow, but from here she seemed to have no of the wildness October had possessed. Breathing silently the large cat remained where he was, a quiet spectator.
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