09-03-2018, 09:03 PM
One of her senses at least should have hinted where she should go. She wasn't blind. The tunnel vision of a slow fading migraine dimmed her visual acuity. She wasn't deaf. The ring of tinnitus distorted sound. She could smell the air. It smelled like blood and snow. She felt her wounds. She tasted copper. And she moved onward thus impaired.
Still, she flared her bloodied nostrils when a blush-gold stranger called out to her. Attention redirecting in haste fueled by some final shred of her spent adrenaline. Ears pricked toward the voice whose tones some how managed not to set them ringing again. Pausing in the snow and balancing herself Agnieszka took several deep breaths. Overwhelmed to have encountered someone else after her indeterminate journey alone.
"Yes." She replied with the candor of one who hasn't any memory to forestall honesty. "Yes, I need help." Her voice broke, either from emotion or lack of use, even she couldn't be sure which. Watching the stranger Agnieszka wondered if she would remember her face. The thought was inconsequential now, when another night in the cold would mean the end of her... but still she wondered. It would be a nice face to remember, if she could hold it in her mind. As far as she could tell nothing else had stayed more than a few hours. She lost things bit by bit in a fog of exhaustion that would not abet until she found a place to rest.
The stallion that rose from the water moments later did not escape her notice. She hadn't the energy to wonder at how he bore himself from such chilly depths but did her best to store the image. The sight made her feel afraid, but somewhere deep and visceral and it was a dull sensation beneath all the others. She took little note of it. She did not, however, feel safe. Not because of him, or any other tangible thing. She might not ever feel safe.
"....brown?" murmured Agnieszka before taking stock of herself. She wasn't sure if he meant that for her or if the comment had been intended for the other mare's understanding. The russet stains that lent further mutilation to what had once been a lustrous dapple splashed pelt did not seem in any way appealing. How had so much blood soaked into her skin? The idea that it might not all be her own set her heart to pounding.
Still, she flared her bloodied nostrils when a blush-gold stranger called out to her. Attention redirecting in haste fueled by some final shred of her spent adrenaline. Ears pricked toward the voice whose tones some how managed not to set them ringing again. Pausing in the snow and balancing herself Agnieszka took several deep breaths. Overwhelmed to have encountered someone else after her indeterminate journey alone.
"Yes." She replied with the candor of one who hasn't any memory to forestall honesty. "Yes, I need help." Her voice broke, either from emotion or lack of use, even she couldn't be sure which. Watching the stranger Agnieszka wondered if she would remember her face. The thought was inconsequential now, when another night in the cold would mean the end of her... but still she wondered. It would be a nice face to remember, if she could hold it in her mind. As far as she could tell nothing else had stayed more than a few hours. She lost things bit by bit in a fog of exhaustion that would not abet until she found a place to rest.
The stallion that rose from the water moments later did not escape her notice. She hadn't the energy to wonder at how he bore himself from such chilly depths but did her best to store the image. The sight made her feel afraid, but somewhere deep and visceral and it was a dull sensation beneath all the others. She took little note of it. She did not, however, feel safe. Not because of him, or any other tangible thing. She might not ever feel safe.
"....brown?" murmured Agnieszka before taking stock of herself. She wasn't sure if he meant that for her or if the comment had been intended for the other mare's understanding. The russet stains that lent further mutilation to what had once been a lustrous dapple splashed pelt did not seem in any way appealing. How had so much blood soaked into her skin? The idea that it might not all be her own set her heart to pounding.
agnieszka
an unequaled gift for disaster