01-22-2020, 07:41 PM
Now the time has come.
She wakes from immortal slumber. Not the kind where her eyes are closed and her chest gently rising, falling, but the kind where she blinks into the present-tense. Literally, Eyas blinks her eyes and stumbles one step forward, tugging at the growing spring vines that have begun to clamor up her legs. They rip from the dark soil of the Forest easily enough, and a heap of dry leaves tumbles freely to the ground where they’ve been stuck in between the motionless feathers of her wings.
Months have passed and the buttermilk-colored buckskin girl has eaten nothing nor swallowed fresh water. She’s hasn’t slept; hasn’t moved from the very spot she’d anchored herself after being tossed aside like a play thing, moments away from being devoured by a dragon. She was thankfully aware that her immortality would lend healing to her wounds, but that meant stasis. Stasis meant she would be caught up in ‘the sight’, and once she began looking into the eyes of those horses she’d bonded with there really wasn’t any backing out for some time.
It was almost like the dreamworld Catcher had shown her. Except what she saw wasn’t a dream but reality: focused, vivid, and raw now that she’d gotten a bit more familiar with her gift.
Only the reality wasn’t hers… it was always someone else's.
Eyas’ reality was the sound of thudding hoof steps as they struggled to carry her at the slowest of paces. It was the tips of her wings dragging along beside her, heavy and useless while attached to a nearly-dead horse. She was nothing but skin stretched too tightly over what could’ve been a fine bone structure; a ragged looking thing painfully making its debut in the white-hot sunlight of spring. The day had only begun but Eyas knew her journey would be much longer than one sinking sun and one rising moon. She was incredibly weak and malnourished.
In the end she reached Nerine after a week or more had passed.
On that final day she could hear the faint crashing of the ocean, and though her head hung low between her two knees the now less-emaciated pegasus could picture the rising cliffs and the impossibly green scrub covering nearly every square inch of rocky terrain. The smell of the moors in her nose brought fresh tears to Eyas’ dry eyes and at the border she collapsed from exhaustion, happy just to be here finally and happy to lose herself in the never-ending blue of a clear sky.
@[Brine]
She wakes from immortal slumber. Not the kind where her eyes are closed and her chest gently rising, falling, but the kind where she blinks into the present-tense. Literally, Eyas blinks her eyes and stumbles one step forward, tugging at the growing spring vines that have begun to clamor up her legs. They rip from the dark soil of the Forest easily enough, and a heap of dry leaves tumbles freely to the ground where they’ve been stuck in between the motionless feathers of her wings.
Months have passed and the buttermilk-colored buckskin girl has eaten nothing nor swallowed fresh water. She’s hasn’t slept; hasn’t moved from the very spot she’d anchored herself after being tossed aside like a play thing, moments away from being devoured by a dragon. She was thankfully aware that her immortality would lend healing to her wounds, but that meant stasis. Stasis meant she would be caught up in ‘the sight’, and once she began looking into the eyes of those horses she’d bonded with there really wasn’t any backing out for some time.
It was almost like the dreamworld Catcher had shown her. Except what she saw wasn’t a dream but reality: focused, vivid, and raw now that she’d gotten a bit more familiar with her gift.
Only the reality wasn’t hers… it was always someone else's.
Eyas’ reality was the sound of thudding hoof steps as they struggled to carry her at the slowest of paces. It was the tips of her wings dragging along beside her, heavy and useless while attached to a nearly-dead horse. She was nothing but skin stretched too tightly over what could’ve been a fine bone structure; a ragged looking thing painfully making its debut in the white-hot sunlight of spring. The day had only begun but Eyas knew her journey would be much longer than one sinking sun and one rising moon. She was incredibly weak and malnourished.
In the end she reached Nerine after a week or more had passed.
On that final day she could hear the faint crashing of the ocean, and though her head hung low between her two knees the now less-emaciated pegasus could picture the rising cliffs and the impossibly green scrub covering nearly every square inch of rocky terrain. The smell of the moors in her nose brought fresh tears to Eyas’ dry eyes and at the border she collapsed from exhaustion, happy just to be here finally and happy to lose herself in the never-ending blue of a clear sky.
@[Brine]
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