[open] The bridges are burning, the heat's on my face - Printable Version +- Beqanna (https://beqanna.com/forum) +-- Forum: OOC (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=24) +--- Forum: Archive (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=81) +---- Forum: Field (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=2) +---- Thread: [open] The bridges are burning, the heat's on my face (/showthread.php?tid=25777) |
The bridges are burning, the heat's on my face - Skyefall - 12-18-2019 SKYFALL sins of the father RE: The bridges are burning, the heat's on my face - Neverwhere - 12-18-2019 She has avoided the field. She is not a recruiter, saying pretty, convincing, words to snap up those seeking homes. She has not, in truth, cared to offer a home to anybody, although it has happened once before. That one had been an accident, a fluke, and somehow, an unfortunately prophetic one. Neverwhere appreciates the fortune telling a little less than others might. Maybe more than a little. She is running. She hasn't run in years, not really, and not outside Nerine. There's an exhilaration in this galloping but it is a freedom unceremoniously quashed by other responsibilities and the twist in her gut when she forgets to forget just why it is she can see again. It is not because her eyes have healed, they remain milky white over blue like clouds over the thin winter sky, yet her vision is better than it has been since foalhood. When she slows, she has reached the field of the homeless and her eye gravitates to him immediately. It must, of course, he is so conspicuous, so ridiculous. She could have seen him even if she were still as blind as she appears. Her ears turn back and she looks over her shoulder to where the meadow calls her, but she recognizes the angry way he grazes, his whole body a snarl, and she changes her mind. The dappled mare approaches him, only announcing herself with a rough snort as she settles nearby to graze as well. She does not recognize herself in the moment, and it makes her sneer into the grass, but she says no words. Not yet. Neverwhere ... Ooc: hello, have a work post lol RE: The bridges are burning, the heat's on my face - Skyefall - 12-18-2019 SKYFALL sins of the father RE: The bridges are burning, the heat's on my face - Neverwhere - 12-18-2019 Not long is how long it takes him to break the silence she has created between them. Neverwhere does not lift her head to observe him when he turns to watch her, or even when he speaks, but she does pause a moment in her grazing. Her response is slow, letting his lackluster greeting hang in the air for a time. Her tipless ears flicker forward and back, and at last she lifts her head, leveling a cool look at his wildly marked face. His height forces her to look up to meet his gaze, a position she despises, so she settles back slightly on her haunches, one hind resting on its edge, and tilts her head just enough to take him in fully. Somehow, with her head cocked, she manages to look more skeptical than inquisitive. The firm line of her mouth, perhaps, does not help, nor the slight narrowing of her eyes that causes small wrinkles to form at their edge. It's already as bad as she expected it to be, this recruiting thing, and the bald-faced mare resolves to leave it to Eurwen from now on. "Color me unsurprised." Her voice is a drawl, More's the pity. "I suppose you already know you look ridiculous, so we'll move on from there," a small dig, prodding for a reaction, "Is there a point to all that?" And so saying, she gestures at him, her muzzle tracing a small circle in the air. Is there a point to that, to him, to looking the way that he does? She can't see it. The question could be as easily turned on her, it's unlikely he had any more choice in the patterns on his skin as she had in the warm grey-brown tone draped across her own. Such concerns have never held her back, however, she is brash and prefers to speak without care for how the words will fall on those who hear them. Awaiting his answer, she looks away, turning to the orange-gold of the early autumn field. The clarity of the world is discomfiting, but she does not let the strangeness color the cynical scowl of her face with wonder or interest. If anything, she looks a bit bored, though her eyes linger over-long on the defined edges of each blade of grass and the sun-bright gleams of light that reflect from the central lake. If she looks as if she'd rather be anywhere else than here, well, that is close enough to true that it almost doesn't matter. Neverwhere ... |