04-29-2018, 12:08 PM
bristol
the past tense of regret is indecision
wing appearance: large, black, and feathered.
She isn’t expecting to go unnoticed for long, and that expectation is met when she hears hoofbeats across the rocks and sand and she turns away from the turbulent shores to watch the stranger approach, and for the first time feels the barest frissure of uncertainty; she had not been born in Ischia, that was true enough; and she had never seen the lands of Legend that her sire and the Amazons hail from despite that visions of them as they might have been haunt her dreams, but the islands have been home for years, and her family gracing its shores now in large quantities is a compelling reason to stay.
But.
The winged mare can barely remember living here, so briefly with Brennen when she was quite small, but she recognizes the turbulent sea from where it kicked at the edges of the fantasy jungle in her dreamscapes, where stories her sire told her about her mother and other Amazons played out behind closed eyelids. But of course in her dreams the Jungle abutts to a similarly dreamed up Tundra, with only a meadow containing a ridiculously large waterfall to separate the two. The old world of her dreams is ninety percent fantasy and stories, but it is the fuel that keeps her going, and she has always loved the sea of Nerine even when she didn’t realize that’s what it was.
“Hello,” she responds as politely as the other’s greeting was offered. “I’m Bristol. I’ve come to join the sisterhood.” no beating around the bush here - nothing but a creature who has finally decided to follow the orders of her dream-self and try something new.
But.
The winged mare can barely remember living here, so briefly with Brennen when she was quite small, but she recognizes the turbulent sea from where it kicked at the edges of the fantasy jungle in her dreamscapes, where stories her sire told her about her mother and other Amazons played out behind closed eyelids. But of course in her dreams the Jungle abutts to a similarly dreamed up Tundra, with only a meadow containing a ridiculously large waterfall to separate the two. The old world of her dreams is ninety percent fantasy and stories, but it is the fuel that keeps her going, and she has always loved the sea of Nerine even when she didn’t realize that’s what it was.
“Hello,” she responds as politely as the other’s greeting was offered. “I’m Bristol. I’ve come to join the sisterhood.” no beating around the bush here - nothing but a creature who has finally decided to follow the orders of her dream-self and try something new.