08-07-2016, 09:09 PM
the cure for anything is salt water:
sweat, tears or the sea
sweat, tears or the sea
The bay woman has yet to see or speak to another. The scent of horses was faint on the breeze, old and trampled down. All was lost in her mind. First the Gates, her father. Gone. Then to the Valley to seek her sister. She too seemed to be gone. All was lost to the young woman.
On this particular spring afternoon, as she moves through the dappling of sun through trees twisted and gnarled with age, Seastory finds herself with company. How long as she lived alone along the fringe of this land? Lost with no place else to go? Hope still bloomed in her chest to find her sister but on this day...there was something different.
A rather masculine blast of sound tears through the canopy of foliage, the birds taking flight. Seastory's attention is ripped from her grazing to peer off at the source. With a heavy snort and on a keen hip does she turn and thread towards the epicenter of tones.
A bit of time passes before she finally catches sight over scent of the stallion. He is dark, the skin of the mamba. He moves with such precision and assertion that Seastory thinks he may be of royalty. And so she calls to him with her own voice of soprano vocals. "Hello." She knows he will hear her, see her but it is what she wants. Finally the solitude and monotonous repetition of day after day will change
On this particular spring afternoon, as she moves through the dappling of sun through trees twisted and gnarled with age, Seastory finds herself with company. How long as she lived alone along the fringe of this land? Lost with no place else to go? Hope still bloomed in her chest to find her sister but on this day...there was something different.
A rather masculine blast of sound tears through the canopy of foliage, the birds taking flight. Seastory's attention is ripped from her grazing to peer off at the source. With a heavy snort and on a keen hip does she turn and thread towards the epicenter of tones.
A bit of time passes before she finally catches sight over scent of the stallion. He is dark, the skin of the mamba. He moves with such precision and assertion that Seastory thinks he may be of royalty. And so she calls to him with her own voice of soprano vocals. "Hello." She knows he will hear her, see her but it is what she wants. Finally the solitude and monotonous repetition of day after day will change
Seastory
i know it's short but wanted to get something to gunny <3