05-19-2020, 08:43 AM
The flash of gold catches her eye from the shadows, sun on yellow skin bright as flowers floating in the pool. Its shade matches her own, were she not wrapped duskily in darkness stolen from the surrounding trees. Beryl has been lurking in the common lands so long that she has almost forgotten her anger, though the odd breath of dragon smoke floating by on the wind can cause her stomach to twist and leap into her breast. She has not forgotten the dream world that the painted mare dropped her into, the blankness that she alone had filled with light and shadow and blood, and the memory of of the destruction she had created - that she had wanted - has kept her distant and wary of returning to the Isle. Has a year and a half passed so quickly? She can still feel the pulsing of the black dragon's muscles, bucking underneath her paws, the way the smoke burned her lungs and eyes, the way he wheeled, blinded by her shadows. The young mare tilts her head to one side, lost in the memory, in the anger and the heat, and though she is still very much in her horse shape, a growl curls softly from her throat.
No, perhaps she has not forgiven the black dragon, after all.
But she has forgiven Leilan for becoming a dragon as well. It had always been his goal (it is not something he discussed with her, but she had been a child, then, and near death so many times.) There is still cold fear in her at the thought of laying eyes on the Isle, burnt and ashen, and she is not sure if she can return to it - not yet - though she knows that the image in her mind's eye is unrealistic. Though she knows that in the year and a half, some growth must have returned, some snow must have fallen...
Voices snap her out of her reverie. The blue and white and gold stallion is beautiful and her curled ears press themselves forward, their delicate tips brushing together into a heart-shape above her head, straining to hear what he says. She is too far to make out anything more than the alluring growl of it, but there is something else to him that troubles her, a needle that sings through her mind and makes the delicate skin around her nostrils tighten. He moves like a hunter, smooth and predatory.
Well.
I'm a predator, too.
Beryl drops the shadows that bend their cool tendrils against her cheek and slips forward, as golden bright as the antlered mare in the pond, the shimmering galaxy on her shoulder a swirl of red and blue and gold. She comes to the edge of the pond where the pair are soaking with a a soft smile - and for all that darkness that she commands, she is still a slip of a girl, still soft and willowy - she smiles and dips her head to drink from the pond before searching again for the invisible paths of their gaze with eyes dark as coffee.
"Hello."
No, perhaps she has not forgiven the black dragon, after all.
But she has forgiven Leilan for becoming a dragon as well. It had always been his goal (it is not something he discussed with her, but she had been a child, then, and near death so many times.) There is still cold fear in her at the thought of laying eyes on the Isle, burnt and ashen, and she is not sure if she can return to it - not yet - though she knows that the image in her mind's eye is unrealistic. Though she knows that in the year and a half, some growth must have returned, some snow must have fallen...
Voices snap her out of her reverie. The blue and white and gold stallion is beautiful and her curled ears press themselves forward, their delicate tips brushing together into a heart-shape above her head, straining to hear what he says. She is too far to make out anything more than the alluring growl of it, but there is something else to him that troubles her, a needle that sings through her mind and makes the delicate skin around her nostrils tighten. He moves like a hunter, smooth and predatory.
Well.
I'm a predator, too.
Beryl drops the shadows that bend their cool tendrils against her cheek and slips forward, as golden bright as the antlered mare in the pond, the shimmering galaxy on her shoulder a swirl of red and blue and gold. She comes to the edge of the pond where the pair are soaking with a a soft smile - and for all that darkness that she commands, she is still a slip of a girl, still soft and willowy - she smiles and dips her head to drink from the pond before searching again for the invisible paths of their gaze with eyes dark as coffee.
"Hello."
@[Ivar] @[Brujeria]