02-23-2020, 01:40 PM
It’s not long before she’s found, paralyzed atop a granite cliff somewhere along the coast of a home she couldn’t recognize. With fear atop her, she continued to stand grounded, watching curiously as a distant observer cautiously made their way forward. Whoever they were, they must have been intelligent enough to tread lightly through and towards such murky weather.
You’re not a ghost. But of that the battered leopard mare is not truly certain.
Though her lungs fill and body bleeds as the living do, she’s convinced that that is enough to deem her alive and not a phantom. There’s an itch somewhere, that what she is now is just a fractured piece of something else, something bigger that she might have been. But that voice that called to her that morning is fleeting - small and diminutive now - hardly a whisper and more akin to a sigh, quickly overshadowed by the ugly bulk of lacking confidence that guided her as a shepherd might their wandering flock in that voice’s absence.
“Roz,” she said, closing her eyes heavily against a throb of pain deep within her skull. When she opens them, the edges of her vision are clear again, and she looks to the fire coated woman. “And you’re Lilliana?” It took but a moment for Breckin to notice the pattern of white against chestnut and a pleasant voice to lend its hand in the recollection of the small gathering that had greeted her that first day in Taiga. That day had proven to be too much in the end, and her anxious nature couldn’t cope with their curiosity and questions, not when there were so many questions left unanswered for herself, and hardly any means to gain answers.
She could never forget that next day, begging Arthas the question of Who is Nerine? and becoming glad she hadn’t inquired that same thing to the questioning winged mare the day before.
“The fog is so thick in this place. It’s practically a small miracle that you were able to find me,” she says wryly after awhile with a small, hesitant grin.
@[lilliana] don't you ever apologize for that madame! sorry this took me almost forever and a day!
You’re not a ghost. But of that the battered leopard mare is not truly certain.
Though her lungs fill and body bleeds as the living do, she’s convinced that that is enough to deem her alive and not a phantom. There’s an itch somewhere, that what she is now is just a fractured piece of something else, something bigger that she might have been. But that voice that called to her that morning is fleeting - small and diminutive now - hardly a whisper and more akin to a sigh, quickly overshadowed by the ugly bulk of lacking confidence that guided her as a shepherd might their wandering flock in that voice’s absence.
“Roz,” she said, closing her eyes heavily against a throb of pain deep within her skull. When she opens them, the edges of her vision are clear again, and she looks to the fire coated woman. “And you’re Lilliana?” It took but a moment for Breckin to notice the pattern of white against chestnut and a pleasant voice to lend its hand in the recollection of the small gathering that had greeted her that first day in Taiga. That day had proven to be too much in the end, and her anxious nature couldn’t cope with their curiosity and questions, not when there were so many questions left unanswered for herself, and hardly any means to gain answers.
She could never forget that next day, begging Arthas the question of Who is Nerine? and becoming glad she hadn’t inquired that same thing to the questioning winged mare the day before.
“The fog is so thick in this place. It’s practically a small miracle that you were able to find me,” she says wryly after awhile with a small, hesitant grin.
@[lilliana] don't you ever apologize for that madame! sorry this took me almost forever and a day!
