03-22-2024, 10:58 AM
She has no memory of arriving here, but she supposes that’s the way it always goes.
Her storms had a way of getting carried away — blinding blizzards that swallowed her surroundings, morphing everything into a dizzying wall of snow. She did not do it on purpose; she knew how devastating blizzards could be, and that not everyone had the luck of being impervious to the cold. And while she did not like to think of herself as especially emotional, occasionally they did get the best of her.
When everything finally cleared she found herself standing in a strange meadow. It was strange only in the sense that she is sure she has never seen it before — other than that it very much appeared to be a normal meadow. Everything was vibrant with the flush of spring, with a fading rainbow still visible against a bright blue sky and an array of flowers blooming amongst patches of clover.
Unbothered by this unexpected change in events, she begins to meander through the meadow. The gold rays of the sun fell in warm beams across her pine-green back, the frosted designs glistening under it. She lowers her head to inspect a particularly lovely patch of flowers and clover, looking over each one carefully for something worthy of tucking into her mane. She is just about to pluck what she had deemed as the perfect shamrock when the familiar red berries of a holly tree — still standing strong from winter and not yet devoured by birds — tucked away between a stand of trees. Perfect, she thought to herself as she makes her way over to it.
Conjuring a sparkling ribbon of snow she uses it to remove a small section of the pointed leaves and berries and places it into the silvery strands of her mane just behind her ear, and nodding in satisfaction to herself, decides that she is ready to explore this new place.
Her storms had a way of getting carried away — blinding blizzards that swallowed her surroundings, morphing everything into a dizzying wall of snow. She did not do it on purpose; she knew how devastating blizzards could be, and that not everyone had the luck of being impervious to the cold. And while she did not like to think of herself as especially emotional, occasionally they did get the best of her.
When everything finally cleared she found herself standing in a strange meadow. It was strange only in the sense that she is sure she has never seen it before — other than that it very much appeared to be a normal meadow. Everything was vibrant with the flush of spring, with a fading rainbow still visible against a bright blue sky and an array of flowers blooming amongst patches of clover.
Unbothered by this unexpected change in events, she begins to meander through the meadow. The gold rays of the sun fell in warm beams across her pine-green back, the frosted designs glistening under it. She lowers her head to inspect a particularly lovely patch of flowers and clover, looking over each one carefully for something worthy of tucking into her mane. She is just about to pluck what she had deemed as the perfect shamrock when the familiar red berries of a holly tree — still standing strong from winter and not yet devoured by birds — tucked away between a stand of trees. Perfect, she thought to herself as she makes her way over to it.
Conjuring a sparkling ribbon of snow she uses it to remove a small section of the pointed leaves and berries and places it into the silvery strands of her mane just behind her ear, and nodding in satisfaction to herself, decides that she is ready to explore this new place.
-- silvine.