07-31-2020, 12:25 PM
(This post was last modified: 10-25-2020, 03:35 PM by Wysteria Fairy.)
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Having left Tephra, I make no further detours on my venture toward the Mountain. This path I know, having walked it six months past. The weather is much more pleasant now – late spring rather than mid-autumn – and I bob my pale head as I walk along. I am careful to avoid the many low hanging branches along the way. My antlers are especially tender as they grow, and I do my best to keep their purple velvet covered tines away from anything that might brush against them. I pass a few others, bother travelling the same and the opposite direction, but none of them so much as glance in my direction.
This is to be expected, of course, for I cloak myself in invisibility, from my pink nose to the very tip of my prehensile tail.
Only when I reach the base of the mountain, do I release it. With my head raised, I look up at the distant peak, shrouded in mist.
<b>“I’m back.”</b> She says aloud, and waits. Nothing, just like the last time. But last time, last time I am sure that the cold wind that tickled my neck was more than just the coming winter. Daddy and Papa have told tales of the @[Ice Fairy], and there had been the flowers all around me when I’d woken back in Tephra. Surely that was an invitation to return again, to truly show my dedication?
Good things are worth waiting for, I remind myself. So I had waited ,and now I have returned. With a determined snort, I begin my climb. It is not easy, but I set a steady pace, and the regenerative magic in my veins aids in my endurance (or at least I imagine that it does). When I began my ascent, my purple haired tail had been held high, but by the time I reach the peak it drags along the ground, dusty and tangled. Yet despite my obvious weariness, my purple eyes are still sharp and alert.
<b>“I said: I came back.”</b> I say again. Was that a gust of cold wind? Or just my imagination?
<b>“I’d still like to have flowers,”</b> I tell the Mountain. <b>“The ones that you gave me last time were very beautiful. My Papa said they are called violets. Thank you for them.”</b> I want to be sure that they know I am grateful, and that the gift I’d woken to had not gone unnoticed.
</p><p class="asena_name">A S E N A</p><p class="asena_quote">i’d rather run the other way<br>than stay and see the smoke and who’s still standing when it clears</p></div><div class="asena_grade"></div></div></center>
Back for a second time to request floral tattoos
<a href=https://beqanna.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=27318>first attempt here</a>
Having left Tephra, I make no further detours on my venture toward the Mountain. This path I know, having walked it six months past. The weather is much more pleasant now – late spring rather than mid-autumn – and I bob my pale head as I walk along. I am careful to avoid the many low hanging branches along the way. My antlers are especially tender as they grow, and I do my best to keep their purple velvet covered tines away from anything that might brush against them. I pass a few others, bother travelling the same and the opposite direction, but none of them so much as glance in my direction.
This is to be expected, of course, for I cloak myself in invisibility, from my pink nose to the very tip of my prehensile tail.
Only when I reach the base of the mountain, do I release it. With my head raised, I look up at the distant peak, shrouded in mist.
<b>“I’m back.”</b> She says aloud, and waits. Nothing, just like the last time. But last time, last time I am sure that the cold wind that tickled my neck was more than just the coming winter. Daddy and Papa have told tales of the @[Ice Fairy], and there had been the flowers all around me when I’d woken back in Tephra. Surely that was an invitation to return again, to truly show my dedication?
Good things are worth waiting for, I remind myself. So I had waited ,and now I have returned. With a determined snort, I begin my climb. It is not easy, but I set a steady pace, and the regenerative magic in my veins aids in my endurance (or at least I imagine that it does). When I began my ascent, my purple haired tail had been held high, but by the time I reach the peak it drags along the ground, dusty and tangled. Yet despite my obvious weariness, my purple eyes are still sharp and alert.
<b>“I said: I came back.”</b> I say again. Was that a gust of cold wind? Or just my imagination?
<b>“I’d still like to have flowers,”</b> I tell the Mountain. <b>“The ones that you gave me last time were very beautiful. My Papa said they are called violets. Thank you for them.”</b> I want to be sure that they know I am grateful, and that the gift I’d woken to had not gone unnoticed.
</p><p class="asena_name">A S E N A</p><p class="asena_quote">i’d rather run the other way<br>than stay and see the smoke and who’s still standing when it clears</p></div><div class="asena_grade"></div></div></center>
Back for a second time to request floral tattoos
<a href=https://beqanna.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=27318>first attempt here</a>