06-16-2017, 11:13 AM
Femur broods;
Beneath the wide blaze on her face is a mouth pinched in a frown, as much as it can be given the fangs that protrude from betwixt her lips on either side of her slim muzzle. Pangea has fallen, this is why she is perplexed and angered. The wastelands to which she was born are no more; she has been cast out of the dusted cracked land of that dead kingdom and spat upon greener, nicer shores that make her sick to look on - too much, too lush, she thinks to herself before slowly turning invisible.
It is easier to exist in that invisible state, to blink in and out of existence. Femur prefers it, and the frown starts to lift from her face as she skips along the bank of the river unseen. She might not have been all that easy to see in the first place since the mist is thick this morning. It looms, large and dense, and she can feel the faint moisture pepper her face as she pushes through it, unhindered. The bite in the air warns well of the winter just after this leaf-changing season, and she feels a shiver shake deliciously through her as she stops her childish skipping to stand on the riverbank and consider.
She’s not exactly sure what it is that she is considering, mayhap turning visible again or just enough. No, that’s not it… she considers a cool drink from the river, takes it and considers again what she’ll do next. Femur answers to no one, has not since Sinew cast her off from her dried up teat and bared her teeth at her as she drove her away. She remembers that her mother was much kinder to the orphan hatched from the egg that her older brother had stolen; no matter, she tells herself, that was Sinew’s way - she raised them up right and hard, a bit of cruelness to temper any kindness she would show them.
It is in the midst of her long pause on the riverbank that she hears another splash through the cold water. She remains invisible, her black eyes picking apart the bits of mist lit up by the sun and she catches sight of the horse made entirely of water. It is artful and precise, from the knob of knee to ridge of spine then it shatters with a splash. Magic is afoot, she thinks as she wrinkles her slender nose. “Do it again,” she calls out, revealing just her fanged mouth so that it is a cheshire grin floating from somewhere above the water-magician.
Beneath the wide blaze on her face is a mouth pinched in a frown, as much as it can be given the fangs that protrude from betwixt her lips on either side of her slim muzzle. Pangea has fallen, this is why she is perplexed and angered. The wastelands to which she was born are no more; she has been cast out of the dusted cracked land of that dead kingdom and spat upon greener, nicer shores that make her sick to look on - too much, too lush, she thinks to herself before slowly turning invisible.
It is easier to exist in that invisible state, to blink in and out of existence. Femur prefers it, and the frown starts to lift from her face as she skips along the bank of the river unseen. She might not have been all that easy to see in the first place since the mist is thick this morning. It looms, large and dense, and she can feel the faint moisture pepper her face as she pushes through it, unhindered. The bite in the air warns well of the winter just after this leaf-changing season, and she feels a shiver shake deliciously through her as she stops her childish skipping to stand on the riverbank and consider.
She’s not exactly sure what it is that she is considering, mayhap turning visible again or just enough. No, that’s not it… she considers a cool drink from the river, takes it and considers again what she’ll do next. Femur answers to no one, has not since Sinew cast her off from her dried up teat and bared her teeth at her as she drove her away. She remembers that her mother was much kinder to the orphan hatched from the egg that her older brother had stolen; no matter, she tells herself, that was Sinew’s way - she raised them up right and hard, a bit of cruelness to temper any kindness she would show them.
It is in the midst of her long pause on the riverbank that she hears another splash through the cold water. She remains invisible, her black eyes picking apart the bits of mist lit up by the sun and she catches sight of the horse made entirely of water. It is artful and precise, from the knob of knee to ridge of spine then it shatters with a splash. Magic is afoot, she thinks as she wrinkles her slender nose. “Do it again,” she calls out, revealing just her fanged mouth so that it is a cheshire grin floating from somewhere above the water-magician.
ooc: still working out her character, next post should get better. <3