10-25-2019, 03:49 PM
There had been necessary lies - to Elio that she was taking a nap, to Mother that she was visiting the Playground, to Pteron that she was going to Loess - enough contradicting stories that they'd have trouble finding her. Celina feels no guilt over the half-truths she has told; she wouldn't have been allowed here if anyone truly knew where she were going.
Where she is - peeking out from between two red boulders, crouching down to see into the basin that is the Pangean Wasteland - this is definitely forbidden. Carnage lives here, Celina thinks, and more recently: monsters. Like a young child should be, Celina had appeared appropriately cowed by her mother's the stories meant to frighten her away from the land. Of course, she has learned that her mother is often distracted these days, lsot in her own mind.
With her father back, Celina had been sure that her mother's moroseness would end, but if anything it has seemed to deepen.
That is not what she is thinking about now though, as she crouches in the soft dusk. The fireflies have settled in her mane and on the rocks around her, and though one blinks occasionally, she has dimmed them for the most part. There are no monsters on the plains below, and she wonders if perhaps they are hiding in the canyon.
Dare she leave her spot on the border?
Torn between boldness and hesitation, the scaled filly does not hear the sound of someone approaching.
@[Altissima]
Where she is - peeking out from between two red boulders, crouching down to see into the basin that is the Pangean Wasteland - this is definitely forbidden. Carnage lives here, Celina thinks, and more recently: monsters. Like a young child should be, Celina had appeared appropriately cowed by her mother's the stories meant to frighten her away from the land. Of course, she has learned that her mother is often distracted these days, lsot in her own mind.
With her father back, Celina had been sure that her mother's moroseness would end, but if anything it has seemed to deepen.
That is not what she is thinking about now though, as she crouches in the soft dusk. The fireflies have settled in her mane and on the rocks around her, and though one blinks occasionally, she has dimmed them for the most part. There are no monsters on the plains below, and she wonders if perhaps they are hiding in the canyon.
Dare she leave her spot on the border?
Torn between boldness and hesitation, the scaled filly does not hear the sound of someone approaching.
@[Altissima]