i feel a bad moon rising | any

[Lepis]

the rain that falls upon your skin it's closer than my hands have been This is the way of things, Lepis had been told so many times; this is the way things are between men and women. There will always be someone younger, someone prettier, and a good wife turns a blind eye to it and raises their children. Her mother’s voice, kind and gentle. Had the navy mare really been right this whole time? It seems unfathomable, and yet, Lepis stands where Heda had always said she would if she ‘ruined the peace’, if she spoke out against the natural order. Had she really let herself think that Wolfbane was different? How deeply had she deluded herself in the half-dozen years they’d spent together? Is Lilliana even the first? She wonders. Or is she just the first he was caught with? Caught up in her thoughts, the dun mare wanders without noticing where she is going. By the time she really looks around her, she’d standing in the riverlands. Lepis doesn’t quite remember crossing the water, yet the long ends of her tail are stiff with ice, and her legs are terribly cold. The spring sunlight overhead is not strong, but she finds a nice rise and spreads her wings to catch the best of it anyway. There is a soft breeze, filled with the scent of damp earth and new growth, and it tugs and toys with her long hair and the stiff feathers of her wings. There’s a faint itch just between her shoulders, where bit of winter hair hasn’t quite fully shed, and despite twitches of her skin and shoulders she cannot quite rid herself of it. Rolling here in the common lands seems a dangerous idea; who knows what lurks in Beqanna in these trying times? So instead she huffs irritably and digs a shallow furrow in the wet earth with her hoof. She unearths a round bulb, one end already burst open in growth. It’s familiar, but she lacks her friend Noah’s skill with identifying flora. A flower, she is sure, and decides that she will take it home with her, and see if it might grow in Loess. Her own thought surprises her –does she already think of Loess as home? – and in the moment of distraction, she crushes the bulb beneath her hoof. The soft give of it fills the navy-haired mare with chagrin, and she rolls it away with another sigh. lepis, comtesse of taiga queen of loess | queen of sylva | queen of the south lover of wolfbane | mother of pteron, marni, tiercal, eyas, gale, celina, and elio

@[leliana]
@[LELIANA]