Moss raises her head;
She has been alone for a long time, so long in fact that she cannot remember when something other than cowbirds and the wind has kept her company.
Moss has gone deep into herself; gone back to nature and the inherent silence in themselves.
She snorts her irritation at the cowbird on her back, snaking her head around to nip at the place it sits, riding close to her jutting hip. Winter made her lean; all bones sharp in their jut and flesh spared of fat. Perhaps spending the harshest season in the rough hinterlands had not been a wise choice but she was more wild than tame, unable to be content amongst their laws and strange governance. She kept to her wild ways, going deep into the country untraversed.
Why now then? Because winter is over, and loneliness bites at her with the teeth of a wolf. So she - Moss, robed in pale rough dress of grey overo, eyes soft and brown, steps onto the field.
ooc: sorry it's short but they'll get better! I haven't played her in a long while.
She has been alone for a long time, so long in fact that she cannot remember when something other than cowbirds and the wind has kept her company.
Moss has gone deep into herself; gone back to nature and the inherent silence in themselves.
She snorts her irritation at the cowbird on her back, snaking her head around to nip at the place it sits, riding close to her jutting hip. Winter made her lean; all bones sharp in their jut and flesh spared of fat. Perhaps spending the harshest season in the rough hinterlands had not been a wise choice but she was more wild than tame, unable to be content amongst their laws and strange governance. She kept to her wild ways, going deep into the country untraversed.
Why now then? Because winter is over, and loneliness bites at her with the teeth of a wolf. So she - Moss, robed in pale rough dress of grey overo, eyes soft and brown, steps onto the field.
ooc: sorry it's short but they'll get better! I haven't played her in a long while.