07-15-2017, 12:04 PM
** NOTE: This thread is pre-Gryffen, during Ruan's reign, and thus set in a different timeline.
Ellyse
I know some things that you don't; I've done things that you won't
there's nothing like a trail of blood to find your way back home
there's nothing like a trail of blood to find your way back home
She cared not for the unforgiving frigidity of winter – its heavy, icy grasp clutched tightly around her throat, drying her mouth, stirring her bones to shiver and quake beneath the gilded surface of her skin. She had been born and raised in the thick of a forest, encircling a vast and empty clearing, and had felt ice and snow lace itself with her feathers more times than she could possibly count – but as time went on, as she found solace and comfort in the soothing warmth and humidity of the volcanic island, the less she sought out the caress of winter. It no longer reminded her of home, of her father – instead, it only reminded her of why she had sought warmer refuge in the first place.
A shiver traverses the length of her spine as winter gently caresses her skin with a whistling gale, draping its icy precipitation onto the rounded edges of her feathered appendages. She had wandered to the southern border and into the salty sea, wading through the rumbling current until she had found the shoreline. There, she only remained still for a moment to gather her bearings – she was heavily pregnant, with stirring life weighing her down, but it hardly held her back – though it did cause her to err on the side of caution of using her winged appendages for travel.
And so, she presses on, her long and slender legs carrying her towards the dense thicket of the forest, weaving through the tall and winding trees that litter it, plunging deeper into the dark but familiar woodland. She had spent much time in its icy embrace, comforted by the echo of solitude, by the quiet it provided her, but she had only one thing on her mind, and it was not the necessity of isolation.
It is not long until she is at the border of it – Taiga.
There is a subtle shift in the treeline, where taller, and more heavily lidded branches provide the shadow and shade of its canopy – it is more dense; darker, even. She is quiet, watchful, but she does not cross the boundary line (she is no fool, nor is she barbaric – just as she would frown upon another for freely traversing Tephra, she could only imagine what the overseer of Taiga would think if she were to do the same).
Tucking the broad expanse of her wings against the swell of her barrel, her pale lips are tilted towards the crevices where pale sunlight is peeking through, calling out to the forest – for her son, for his beloved.
She has come – if Canaan would not come to her, she would come to him. To his lover.
She would come to the grandchildren he had promised her.
A shiver traverses the length of her spine as winter gently caresses her skin with a whistling gale, draping its icy precipitation onto the rounded edges of her feathered appendages. She had wandered to the southern border and into the salty sea, wading through the rumbling current until she had found the shoreline. There, she only remained still for a moment to gather her bearings – she was heavily pregnant, with stirring life weighing her down, but it hardly held her back – though it did cause her to err on the side of caution of using her winged appendages for travel.
And so, she presses on, her long and slender legs carrying her towards the dense thicket of the forest, weaving through the tall and winding trees that litter it, plunging deeper into the dark but familiar woodland. She had spent much time in its icy embrace, comforted by the echo of solitude, by the quiet it provided her, but she had only one thing on her mind, and it was not the necessity of isolation.
It is not long until she is at the border of it – Taiga.
There is a subtle shift in the treeline, where taller, and more heavily lidded branches provide the shadow and shade of its canopy – it is more dense; darker, even. She is quiet, watchful, but she does not cross the boundary line (she is no fool, nor is she barbaric – just as she would frown upon another for freely traversing Tephra, she could only imagine what the overseer of Taiga would think if she were to do the same).
Tucking the broad expanse of her wings against the swell of her barrel, her pale lips are tilted towards the crevices where pale sunlight is peeking through, calling out to the forest – for her son, for his beloved.
She has come – if Canaan would not come to her, she would come to him. To his lover.
She would come to the grandchildren he had promised her.
head of war of tephra
daughter of elysium & speck
daughter of elysium & speck