01-15-2017, 09:58 PM
a relit cigarette never tastes the same; that‘s all i‘ll preach on rekindling old flames
She does not flee. There was nothing left of her former life to flee from. The Valley wolves, proverbial crowns and power; they had all vanished in the blink of an eye. They had all been left with the nothingness (or newness, depending on ones perspective) that was Beqanna now. Cowards were the ones to flee the unknown; she had simply taken time to gain a perspective on it. Self imposed exile had simply been her chosen method for doing so.
In losing her voice, she had began to explore the depths of her other senses. Sight and sound seemed to be amplified, now that she couldn’t interfere with her own voice. The cry of the ravens (so bittersweet!), the whisper of the winds. Sight, too, felt stronger than before. It was likely a figment of her wishful imagination, but it was intriguing nonetheless. As her eyes scanned over the snow-covered landscape, something caught her eye. A dark stallion atop a ridge, one she’d not seen before though he had the air of someone who belonged. While he made no move towards her, his eyes were clearly on her. She had never been one to squirm beneath the gaze of a brutish man, and she certainly wasn’t going to start now. Raptors teeth or not, she was still forged from Valley steel and ash.
Narrowing her gaze, and stepped forward, her small hooves sinking soundlessly into the snow. It did not take her long to reach him, though she stopped before she was too close. There was an air about him that screamed danger, and while the logical part of her wanted to heed that warning, the reckless part begged for further investigation. Unfortunately, she had no voice, conventional or otherwise. Instead, she huffed, flicking her ears backwards and tossing her head, black mane flying. “Its rude to stare.” she thought to herself, and giving the winged stallion a look that matched her thoughts.
Topsail
mast x camelia