03-04-2020, 11:04 PM
Mint gaze catches the glow from the southern tip. Jesla stands near the center of the Isle with eyes and ears trained upon the growing light. At first, the spotted mare believes the display to be a reflection of the Isle's own lights. As the fury unfurls across the tundra and, the light grows brighter, she is able to make out a shadow that cuts silently through the darkness. It travels with a deft speed and dives and cuts with precision (she would never know that he could not see).
A group of arctic hares frantically scurry past her. Now, Jesla begins to realize that these flames intend to touch every corner of her home. A shrill whistle emits from her parted maw to rally her mother and those nearby. The young female feels a resolute tension set in her mandible as she pivots on her haunches and lunges into a canter. Springy strides soon settle into a trot as her mother draws alongside. Jesla does not hear Beryl's attack though, Leilan's familiar voice, panic stricken, reaches her ears with his warning. The maiden keeps her focus on driving the residents to the shoreline. She remains silent though her heart is a flutter with fear and, her brain is alive with rage. Her gaze notes the large white stag who joins the charge and ushers everyone to the shoreline.
As they draw closer, Jesla feels a pang of guilt. She was fleeing her only home. The place that had supported her since birth. She shouldn't leave. She couldn't abandon her home. She keeps up with those seeking to flee to the mainland until they reach the coastline. Sliding to a halt, she glances back over her shoulder. She could make out another winged creature, this one nearly as white as the snow that usually blankets the ground. He, too, had joined the defense and, had taken to the skies. Pulses of electricity appear to ricochet through the smoke and steam rising from the burning land.
The sound of hooves on stone draw Jesla's gaze back to the coastline. Here she sees a mare, her palette as white as snow and, splattered with soft pink dots, building a stepping stone bridge. Jesla waits until their eyes meet before she mouthes the words, "Thank you" to her. The mostly black mare watches as her friends and family take refuge across the path and, reach the Nerine shore safely.
She considers falling in line behind them but her guilt stops her from taking the first step. A mere second later, the stone pillars crumble back into the water. Jesla draws her strong onyx limb back under her and turns to face the mayhem. Her home burns brightly from the fire spewed by the shadow demon. All able-bodied and able-minded creatures have moved out of harm's way. Jesla studies the brave warriors who attempt to thwart the menace. She has nothing to offer them but, she cannot bring herself to abandon this place.
With a sigh, her soft green gaze shifts. It is now that she notes the difference in the color of the fire that laps at the lone tree next to the heart-shaped pond. The pond itself remains, unevaporated and, as liquid as ever. Instinctively, Jesla moves towards this landmark. Her gait is a sluggish shuffle at first. Then, her strides are fueled by determination. She reaches the shoreline but does not stop there. She marches in until the soothing water envelops her limbs and, licks at her barrel. Standing in its midst, Jesla hopes that the magic within will shield her and, protect the Isle from being completely destroyed. From here, Jesla watches the shadow perch where his vantage point allows him to admire his destruction. The spotted mare remains silent though, a rampant fire burns inside of her once innocent heart.
A group of arctic hares frantically scurry past her. Now, Jesla begins to realize that these flames intend to touch every corner of her home. A shrill whistle emits from her parted maw to rally her mother and those nearby. The young female feels a resolute tension set in her mandible as she pivots on her haunches and lunges into a canter. Springy strides soon settle into a trot as her mother draws alongside. Jesla does not hear Beryl's attack though, Leilan's familiar voice, panic stricken, reaches her ears with his warning. The maiden keeps her focus on driving the residents to the shoreline. She remains silent though her heart is a flutter with fear and, her brain is alive with rage. Her gaze notes the large white stag who joins the charge and ushers everyone to the shoreline.
As they draw closer, Jesla feels a pang of guilt. She was fleeing her only home. The place that had supported her since birth. She shouldn't leave. She couldn't abandon her home. She keeps up with those seeking to flee to the mainland until they reach the coastline. Sliding to a halt, she glances back over her shoulder. She could make out another winged creature, this one nearly as white as the snow that usually blankets the ground. He, too, had joined the defense and, had taken to the skies. Pulses of electricity appear to ricochet through the smoke and steam rising from the burning land.
The sound of hooves on stone draw Jesla's gaze back to the coastline. Here she sees a mare, her palette as white as snow and, splattered with soft pink dots, building a stepping stone bridge. Jesla waits until their eyes meet before she mouthes the words, "Thank you" to her. The mostly black mare watches as her friends and family take refuge across the path and, reach the Nerine shore safely.
She considers falling in line behind them but her guilt stops her from taking the first step. A mere second later, the stone pillars crumble back into the water. Jesla draws her strong onyx limb back under her and turns to face the mayhem. Her home burns brightly from the fire spewed by the shadow demon. All able-bodied and able-minded creatures have moved out of harm's way. Jesla studies the brave warriors who attempt to thwart the menace. She has nothing to offer them but, she cannot bring herself to abandon this place.
With a sigh, her soft green gaze shifts. It is now that she notes the difference in the color of the fire that laps at the lone tree next to the heart-shaped pond. The pond itself remains, unevaporated and, as liquid as ever. Instinctively, Jesla moves towards this landmark. Her gait is a sluggish shuffle at first. Then, her strides are fueled by determination. She reaches the shoreline but does not stop there. She marches in until the soothing water envelops her limbs and, licks at her barrel. Standing in its midst, Jesla hopes that the magic within will shield her and, protect the Isle from being completely destroyed. From here, Jesla watches the shadow perch where his vantage point allows him to admire his destruction. The spotted mare remains silent though, a rampant fire burns inside of her once innocent heart.