04-29-2017, 01:19 AM
life is like an hourglass; glued to the table
Gentle rays of sunlight peeked in through the dense foliage, illuminating the moist soil and shining off what little snow had fallen beneath the draping quiet of a frigid night, sheltered from the warmth of the morning sun. The light paved the path for the lithe, youthful frame that sauntered through. Slowly, she stepped and bounded around each leaning oak, dodging and weaving through the forest. Her breath was warm but the air too cold, and her lungs burnt from her long morning's travel – so unlike the thick, humid haze she had come to know so well. Her russet skin blends in well with the dark emerald brush surrounding her, though her steps were hardly careful and quiet - old dried leaves crunched softly beneath her weight and twigs snapped with each movement. She could not say where she was going, nor why. She had no destination in mind; only that she had grown tired of following the winding, bubbling magma that pooled at the foot of a too-tall mountain; that she had become bored of the swaying grain and dull, dreary sky.
The dense thicket is unlike any she had seen before, and her bright, searing jade eyes observe every brittle, hanging branch – every dry, dying leaf hanging precariously from its parched stem. Her youth is etched into her delicate features - her limbs long and slim and not yet filled with the supple muscle and fat that would eventually cause her to sway to and fro with each deliberate step. There is a whisper of age outlining her frame – the delicate slope of her spine, the width and length of her neck, the faint curve of her widening hips – but she is caught betwixt, nary a child nor a woman yet.
A gilded glimmer catches her eye, and within a single beat of her pounding heart, she is still – nothing but the roving curiosity of her searching stare and the rapid rise and fall of her chest to give her away. The mottled gold reflects the pale rays of sunlight peeking through the thick canopy above, and she is drawn closer, tracing the line of thick, defined muscle beneath pallid skin, and the way a shadow drapes over the darkest points and edges of him with her eyes. Her cheek brushes against the brittle bark of an oak as she quietly observes him, and the tip of her right horn rakes against the dry wood, causing a large piece of dead timber to fumble onto her.
A gasp emerges from her lungs before she can stifle it, and if it were not the shadow cast across her, a reddened tint would be visible on the hollow of her cheeks. Foolish, she chides herself, giving a brief shake of her head in an attempt to free her winding horns from the plate of wood that has found its way caught between – leaving dust and pulp behind in her long, tangled tresses as she looks apologetically to the masculine figure before her
”I’m sorry,” she manages, stammering slightly – her voice wavering with uncertainty. ”I, uh - I was passing through, and I saw .. you.” She finishes lamely, grimacing at her choice of words. ”You’re the first I’ve seen in a while. I’m Prevail.”
Prevail
@[Scythe]