01-05-2019, 02:57 AM
"The moon once pulled blood from me.
Now I pull silver."
North does not feel at home in the forest. She needs room to run and the sun on her back. She needs salt water in her mane and sand in her teeth and the constant presence of something without end. She needs the ocean. Or at least she did before she died.
Here it is claustrophobic and dark and smells of moss and damp earth. She should hate it, but... she doesn't. Her hooves shift and settle into the ground. It is easy to imagine how quickly the forest would grow around her if she remained motionless. A year? Three?
Her eyes are still closed.
(she's remembering sea kelp green and calcium white and the taste of her blood filling the water around her. She's remembering so clearly the exact moment she died. The rest of her life felt like a hazy misremembered dream in comparison. (Dying? Now that's living.) The world turns to pain pain pain and we fade to black and
3- 2- 1-
she's remembering sea kelp green and calcium white and the taste of her bloo-)
A bell tolls. "What are you waiting for?"
The voice echoes as though it's traveled very far to reach her. Awareness rushes back and the first think she feels is that it is cold, cold enough to cut. Next comes the caution of a wild animal-- the body tensing, the senses sharpening.
She blinks once, twice. "Whatever the forest would bring me." She looks him in the eye then, and he reminds her of the creature that killed her. The hair on her spine stands on end, and she is not certain if it is with cold, or fear, or thrill.
"You, I guess." When she suddenly bares her teeth in a grin, she looks less like a lamb and more like a wolf.
N O R T H
@[Eight]