08-16-2016, 03:15 PM
The snow latches onto her ankles and buries knives into her veins. Immobility almost grips her, but she slowly begins to sway and alternate in lifting her paws. They are beyond warming themselves while she still stands in the shallow snow bank, suffering in order to better digest the world she is immersing herself in. It’s only after the minutes leak into an hour that she brings the sunlight to her discretion. The light intensifies on the snow around her, the heat closely following in pursuit until there is a patch of melted snow surrounding her. The permafrost withers in the face of the sunlight enough so that wilted grass is able to weakly lift from their frozen tombs. Estela glances down smugly, but the expression dims quickly when she hears muffled footsteps looming like storm clouds.
Unable to mask her disappointment she peers up at him with her gold-flecked eyes. They gleam beneath her porcelain forelock, scrutinizing him before leveling on his own. ”Seriously?” Her lips curve into a frown, her brows furrowing. ”No, I’m not lost and I sure as hell am not your sweetheart,” her voice is venomous and yet she does nothing more than inch away from him. The edge of snow kisses her foot and she lifts it abruptly. Perhaps she will eventually adapt to the climate and snow, but her body is attuned to the southeastern ways of the Dale where there are rolling green hills and heat, most importantly.
A voice in the distance offers a distraction, but it’s mediocre at best. The opposite mare offers nothing to the conversation and so Estela refocuses and stares rigidly at Aurumn. ”I was recruited to this,” she briefly pauses to glance across the open landscape, ”once-brotherhood. I hope it won’t be a waste,” of time, of effort. She has hopes and ambitions, much more than she would want lost on distractions.
Unable to mask her disappointment she peers up at him with her gold-flecked eyes. They gleam beneath her porcelain forelock, scrutinizing him before leveling on his own. ”Seriously?” Her lips curve into a frown, her brows furrowing. ”No, I’m not lost and I sure as hell am not your sweetheart,” her voice is venomous and yet she does nothing more than inch away from him. The edge of snow kisses her foot and she lifts it abruptly. Perhaps she will eventually adapt to the climate and snow, but her body is attuned to the southeastern ways of the Dale where there are rolling green hills and heat, most importantly.
A voice in the distance offers a distraction, but it’s mediocre at best. The opposite mare offers nothing to the conversation and so Estela refocuses and stares rigidly at Aurumn. ”I was recruited to this,” she briefly pauses to glance across the open landscape, ”once-brotherhood. I hope it won’t be a waste,” of time, of effort. She has hopes and ambitions, much more than she would want lost on distractions.
Estela
lies are dripping off your face