12-22-2018, 03:19 PM
Eurwen
in the winter, far beneath the bitter snows
She made it - by some miracle, the golden-haired girl has found the others again. A small chance, a bit of luck - a touch of magic perhaps? - and she’d run roughly in the right direction.
No-one awaits them, no-one gives instructions, but as she remembers, they were here to collect stones from the beach. There is an antlered mare who acts motherly, surrounded by children. Eurwen is silent and hangs around the back; unsure if she would be allowed to join, still scared from the looks of that diseased horse, she also doesn’t want to ask. But doing this alone is way scarier than with a group.
When they leave, she awkwardly, silently follows, hobbling behind them so that perhaps they won’t see her following and she won’t be chased away or called upon. The way is slippery but the splashed mare seems to know where to go; they reach the beach soon enough.
What awaits them there however, gives the pink-spotted girl another mini heart attack. She stares, her wide doe-eyes taking in it’s form and it’s words. For a long time she does nothing; fighting the instinct to run away and never come back. Because the way back is full of diseased horses that scare her also, and beyond is the beach, she can see it, she can smell it. Nearly there.
Trembling, she looks at it - though not in the eyes. It is a beast made of evil, and it takes her so much time to even move. She opens her mouth to speak - and no sound but a small, silent yip comes out.
Bravery is only bravery when you overcome a fear. With two parents being braver than she knows, she couldn’t turn out much different. They’re not here. Her sisters aren’t here. But one sister is sick and to help her she must be brave.
There are no options. She needs to pass. She needs to do it fast, too, and persuading this thing will not work, with a voice like that.
She bites her lower lip. Cries silently. Thinks of all the things she might need to say. Her sister is sick. The world is full of sick ponies.
There’s a shift in the young girl’s stance. The trembling never stops, and her ears have laid flat on her skull all this time. But her fearful expression turns sour, and the yips she makes turn into somewhat of a growl. No. She refuses to give in to this thing. ”You, are, mean!”
She rushes forward. She has no traits to use. But she knows how to bite.
No-one awaits them, no-one gives instructions, but as she remembers, they were here to collect stones from the beach. There is an antlered mare who acts motherly, surrounded by children. Eurwen is silent and hangs around the back; unsure if she would be allowed to join, still scared from the looks of that diseased horse, she also doesn’t want to ask. But doing this alone is way scarier than with a group.
When they leave, she awkwardly, silently follows, hobbling behind them so that perhaps they won’t see her following and she won’t be chased away or called upon. The way is slippery but the splashed mare seems to know where to go; they reach the beach soon enough.
What awaits them there however, gives the pink-spotted girl another mini heart attack. She stares, her wide doe-eyes taking in it’s form and it’s words. For a long time she does nothing; fighting the instinct to run away and never come back. Because the way back is full of diseased horses that scare her also, and beyond is the beach, she can see it, she can smell it. Nearly there.
Trembling, she looks at it - though not in the eyes. It is a beast made of evil, and it takes her so much time to even move. She opens her mouth to speak - and no sound but a small, silent yip comes out.
Bravery is only bravery when you overcome a fear. With two parents being braver than she knows, she couldn’t turn out much different. They’re not here. Her sisters aren’t here. But one sister is sick and to help her she must be brave.
There are no options. She needs to pass. She needs to do it fast, too, and persuading this thing will not work, with a voice like that.
She bites her lower lip. Cries silently. Thinks of all the things she might need to say. Her sister is sick. The world is full of sick ponies.
There’s a shift in the young girl’s stance. The trembling never stops, and her ears have laid flat on her skull all this time. But her fearful expression turns sour, and the yips she makes turn into somewhat of a growl. No. She refuses to give in to this thing. ”You, are, mean!”
She rushes forward. She has no traits to use. But she knows how to bite.
lies the seed that with the sun's love
in the spring becomes the rose
in the spring becomes the rose