09-09-2018, 07:46 PM
Sylva had become a shadow of the past.
The latest stallion that rose into the crown's acquisition had done little but put a bitter taste in Sibella's mouth. Sweeping in with other Loessians in tow, he'd laid claim to the wicked few that still roamed the woods caught in everlasting autumn. At least the prior two before the dappled stallion had stirred something within the recesses of her ever darkening mind; they had demanded respect, and in turn, had given their residents free will and a means to come by their darkest desires.
But this newcomer, what had he done to gain their respect? Whose blood had he spilled, whose lives had he destroyed? As far she could tell in her young mind--no ones. And so her respect would not lie with him or Sylva, or her mother, or the select few remaining inhabitants of her first home. She'd left with no resistance, sparing no time for any fake goodbyes. They would not miss her; she'd hardly been but a quiet shadow to them, forever watching on the fringed outskirts of their gatherings.
The woeful song of winter winds pouring through ragged stumps and the frigid crunch of snow packing beneath burdened footfalls are the only things that accompany her as dusk falls over the meadow. A heated cloud of vapor trails past her onyx lips, head raising slightly as lazy ears flicker listlessly to the side; unaware that the usual role she played did not belong to her tonight. This evening, she was the one being watched.
@[Drustan] <333
The latest stallion that rose into the crown's acquisition had done little but put a bitter taste in Sibella's mouth. Sweeping in with other Loessians in tow, he'd laid claim to the wicked few that still roamed the woods caught in everlasting autumn. At least the prior two before the dappled stallion had stirred something within the recesses of her ever darkening mind; they had demanded respect, and in turn, had given their residents free will and a means to come by their darkest desires.
But this newcomer, what had he done to gain their respect? Whose blood had he spilled, whose lives had he destroyed? As far she could tell in her young mind--no ones. And so her respect would not lie with him or Sylva, or her mother, or the select few remaining inhabitants of her first home. She'd left with no resistance, sparing no time for any fake goodbyes. They would not miss her; she'd hardly been but a quiet shadow to them, forever watching on the fringed outskirts of their gatherings.
The woeful song of winter winds pouring through ragged stumps and the frigid crunch of snow packing beneath burdened footfalls are the only things that accompany her as dusk falls over the meadow. A heated cloud of vapor trails past her onyx lips, head raising slightly as lazy ears flicker listlessly to the side; unaware that the usual role she played did not belong to her tonight. This evening, she was the one being watched.
@[Drustan] <333