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what's past is prologue // augusta - Clegane - 10-25-2020 clegane @[Radar] RE: what's past is prologue // augusta - Augusta - 11-01-2020 the night is my companion, and solitude my guide. The forest has always been her home. There had been a time when she had thought she would have been able to stray from the shadows that grow tall and long amongst the silent trees - but that time has long since passed. Her secluded alcove is familiar and warm, draped by her own magic that creates a trick of the light, hiding her from view and obscuring her from those who she did not want to be seen by. She curls up in the soft bed of lichen, drifting off to sleep every night with her shadows dancing beside her. And when she awakes, she finds that the gentle rays of the sun have coaxed her from her sleep. She blinks slowly, lifting her chin from her dark knees as a visible shudder trickles down her spine; winter is in the air, cold and fierce, and it makes her wary. The sound of a lonesome howl of a wolf in the distance brings the mare to her legs, shaking out the tightness of sleep. Another sound - almost like a howl - finds her attention. She is familiar with the mournful moan of wind through the trees, but Augusta knows that in this instance, that was not the case. Curious yet cautious, the dark blue mare departs from her copse of trees, determined to find the source of a sudden gust of powerful wind through the forest. She comes upon the winged stallion just as he attempts to throw himself to the sky for a second time. She pauses momentarily, single foreleg mid-air, her dark brown eyes watching him. And when he tucks those beautiful wings into his dappled sides, Augusta cannot help herself. The quiet girl draws up alongside him, fascinated by the way the sunlight catches on his coat, glinting softly. She’d never tell him, but she’s quite happy that he wasn’t able to leave just yet. “Don’t go,” she murmurs, her voice but a whisper, realizing that all the years she’s spent alone now brings her to this moment - begging a stranger to keep her company. “I mean,” she clarifies softly, “you don’t have to leave if you don’t want to.” “I’m Augusta.” @[Clegane] RE: what's past is prologue // augusta - Clegane - 12-18-2020 clegane @[Augusta] RE: what's past is prologue // augusta - Augusta - 12-21-2020 the night is my companion, and solitude my guide. She has never known a stranger, not really, and that will perhaps come around to hurt her one day. She is so trusting and full of warmth; the forest has never held anything for her other than the comforting scent of wet bark after a summer rain, or the bits of color that pop through the snow as flowers begin to bloom once again at the end of winter. Life has been soft to her and so when her deep almond eyes rest on the scars that tear across his face, her own expression falls slack. Concern deepens within her irises and without thinking, she reaches out to touch her pale mouth to the gnarled skin as if in awe. “Clegane,” she repeats so softly, her voice a whisper as her breath warms the redness of his scar tissue. She focuses next on the intricate patterns that play across the thick curve of his neck and the near-white tendrils of mane that spill across it, humming thoughtfully to herself as she imagines where he has been and what grand stories he has to tell - more than her, she could easily guess. Augusta pauses, realizing her closeness and the rather rude way she was fixated on him, and her eyes grow wide. “I’m sorry,” she breathes suddenly, pulling her chin to her chest and chiding herself inwardly for being so unfeeling. It is not often she finds someone to share her day with and it seems like she is well on her way to offending him; she only hopes he does not take to the skies just yet and forgives her for her carelessness. There is a gentle laugh in her throat, sincere and tender. “I have nowhere else to be but here, either.” She rolls her blue mottled shoulder casually, tipping her chin upwards to gaze at the perfect white clouds that now move unhurriedly across the sky above them. “That sums up my life quite perfectly, actually.” Her voice is as smooth as the water that flows before them, fading into a hum once again. She turns her blue and white face towards him, that intricate blaze down the bridge of her nose contrasting brightly against the darker auburn of her eyes. “I hope you have a much better one.” Augusta smiles because of course he did; everyone did - they had to - because who would dream of living here, alone, as she does? Years ago, she thinks to herself, perhaps she would have. But now (and perhaps it is the way the wind stirs the darkness of her mane and forelock), she wishes for just a bit more. @[Clegane] RE: what's past is prologue // augusta - Clegane - 02-21-2021 clegane @[Augusta] |