Iris
10-16-2020, 12:02 PM
stars, hide your fire;
let not light see my black and deep desires
She catches the smell of the dead first. It takes her a little while to find the source, and by the time she does, the stallion is wading into the river to wash away the smell. Curious. Did he kill someone and need to clean it? Had he been mourning a lost loved one? The questions run through her head, and she projects one to the souls that swirl around her. They always find her, whether there are bones about or not. Souls don’t tend to stay with their bodies (though there are a few that cling to life). He tries to talk to us, says a voice, old and gray. Another, sweet and middle-aged, perhaps He encourages souls by their bones.
Iris likes him immediately.
She makes her way to the edge of the river, letting her feet come to rest on the bank, not afraid of the water but not wanting to disturb him either. ”Hello,” she calls, unafraid despite her small age and small size. After all, she could take down most threats with little effort, could make herself poisonous to the touch. She doesn’t need to be large to be dangerous. ”The dead tell me you talk to them.” It is blunt, but she doesn’t care. ”Why?” She wants to know if he is like her.
Iris likes him immediately.
She makes her way to the edge of the river, letting her feet come to rest on the bank, not afraid of the water but not wanting to disturb him either. ”Hello,” she calls, unafraid despite her small age and small size. After all, she could take down most threats with little effort, could make herself poisonous to the touch. She doesn’t need to be large to be dangerous. ”The dead tell me you talk to them.” It is blunt, but she doesn’t care. ”Why?” She wants to know if he is like her.
iris
@[Sympathetic Gore]