03-01-2018, 12:28 PM
<link href='http://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Alex+Brush' rel='stylesheet' type='text/css'><style>.wysterialayout {width:600px; border:1px solid #000;box-shadow:0px 0px 10px #000;background-color:#84658e;} .wysteriagradient {width:600px; border:1px solid #000;padding:10px;background:#32173b;background: -webkit-linear-gradient(#32173b, #502d5c, #32173b);background: -o-linear-gradient(#32173b, #502d5c, #32173b);background: -moz-linear-gradient(#32173b, #502d5c, #32173b);background: linear-gradient(#32173b, #502d5c, #32173b); box-shadow:0px 0px 25px #000;} .wysteriapic {width:600px; height:600px; background-image:url('https://s12.postimg.org/kg3nx0u5p/insanewysteriafairy.png');background-size:contain;margin-bottom:-85px;} .wysteriaquote {width:600px; font-size:24px;font-family: 'alex brush', cursive;color:#32173b;padding-bottom:10px;} .wysteriapost {padding:30px;padding-bottom:5px;padding-top:0px;text-align:justify;font:12px times;color:#32173b;} .wysterianame {width:600px; height:101px; background-image:url('https://s12.postimg.org/yntclo6ul/wfname.png');background-size:contain;margin-bottom:5px;}</style><center><div class=wysteriagradient><div class=wysterialayout><div class=wysteriapic></div><div class=wysteriaquote><center>All hail the Queen of the Boards.</center></div><div class=wysteriapost>It is a truly disgusting day, though the weather does not touch her. The rain seems to part around the leaves and flowers that make up her mane and tail, seems to simply roll away from any part of her white and untarnished skin. Magic surrounds her, as it does all the faeries, and the weather only touches them when they so choose. There are perks to being her, after all, but the perks do not outweigh the cost of caring for a land for all eternity.
The horses that come into Beqanna go before Wysteria has ever bothered to learn who they are. A few make an impact, but even those names fade and blur eventually. She has to remind herself when they come that they think of their lives as more than insignificant little blurs, and it helps to soften her just a bit. But she is nothing like her exterior on the inside. Her exterior is beautiful and memorable and even in Beqanna it stands out, something otherworldly to her. The interior though has lost all its shine, has turned far colder and harder than she looks.
Too many years will do that to anyone, she supposes.
These two, at least, come for love. They don't come for power or things, simply love. She knows their thoughts, of course, though she doesn't let on. Instead she's simply waiting for them at the top of the mountain when they arrive, clearly aware they've been trekking up the mountain and doing nothing to help them. Helping them would defeat the purpose of the mountain though. They had to earn what they were here to ask for.
<b> "Nihlus and Nuage,"</b> she says in a slow, deep voice. Her voice sounds so much like it belongs to the tree she was modeled after, something earthy and ancient. They may all be insignificant to her, but still, she knows their names and their minds and their hearts. When they are standing before her, it's easy to pick them out from the noise of Beqanna. <b> "To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"</b>
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The horses that come into Beqanna go before Wysteria has ever bothered to learn who they are. A few make an impact, but even those names fade and blur eventually. She has to remind herself when they come that they think of their lives as more than insignificant little blurs, and it helps to soften her just a bit. But she is nothing like her exterior on the inside. Her exterior is beautiful and memorable and even in Beqanna it stands out, something otherworldly to her. The interior though has lost all its shine, has turned far colder and harder than she looks.
Too many years will do that to anyone, she supposes.
These two, at least, come for love. They don't come for power or things, simply love. She knows their thoughts, of course, though she doesn't let on. Instead she's simply waiting for them at the top of the mountain when they arrive, clearly aware they've been trekking up the mountain and doing nothing to help them. Helping them would defeat the purpose of the mountain though. They had to earn what they were here to ask for.
<b> "Nihlus and Nuage,"</b> she says in a slow, deep voice. Her voice sounds so much like it belongs to the tree she was modeled after, something earthy and ancient. They may all be insignificant to her, but still, she knows their names and their minds and their hearts. When they are standing before her, it's easy to pick them out from the noise of Beqanna. <b> "To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"</b>
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