02-21-2023, 07:19 AM
HAVE PITY ON THEM ALL, FOR IT IS WE WHO ARE THE REAL MONSTERS |
The low grumble of thunder looms in distant skies, trailing miles behind the creature as she plods along the worn paths in this unfamiliar scenery. Hooves and feathering scuffled against the ground beneath her, she was barely lifting them in her lazy strides. She held no sense of eagerness, no yearning to reach a particular destination. She’s been traveling for a length of time that has since been lost to her. It all felt a blur, and yet this was the most intriguing part of her journey thus far.
The air here wrought with a lingering anguish. It felt almost abrasive as it cut through the stone formations before reaching her. The gusts were pushed in unexpected directions, wafting into her from the side and sending ringlets of her long, silvered mane and tail swirling wildly. As soon as it had swept through, the winds had died down for a brief period. Cryptid took the opportunity to restore her mane to its typical disheveled glory by giving a solid, full body shake.
She lifted her head slightly, taking in the sight before her from beneath her thick forelock. Craggy, forlorn collection of stones littered the landscape. Cryptid pondered what they could have been. She imagined great structures that were once bustling with activity. The haunting feeling of a grim event crept through on the winds once more, leading the looming thunder closer. The light patter of rain against her mousy coat encouraged her to seek shelter.
Once again, with no rush, she continues onward slowly.
The air here wrought with a lingering anguish. It felt almost abrasive as it cut through the stone formations before reaching her. The gusts were pushed in unexpected directions, wafting into her from the side and sending ringlets of her long, silvered mane and tail swirling wildly. As soon as it had swept through, the winds had died down for a brief period. Cryptid took the opportunity to restore her mane to its typical disheveled glory by giving a solid, full body shake.
She lifted her head slightly, taking in the sight before her from beneath her thick forelock. Craggy, forlorn collection of stones littered the landscape. Cryptid pondered what they could have been. She imagined great structures that were once bustling with activity. The haunting feeling of a grim event crept through on the winds once more, leading the looming thunder closer. The light patter of rain against her mousy coat encouraged her to seek shelter.
Once again, with no rush, she continues onward slowly.