City’s eyes have been fading for the last 10 years, a slow decline into blurriness – so this darkness, it seems like the final step, really. Blindness doesn’t seem to put her off, or make her stumble, her legs moving her worn feet across the ground they know like their own body. Even as the terrain cracks open, crumbles and reforms over the eons, she’s never had trouble finding her way around. Like her soul has a compass tethered to the norns of Beqanna – like the string of past, present and future, she is tied to this haunted and magical place.
She was born here, in the Chamber, well, what was the Chamber. She was born in the world of three slices; good, neutral and evil. Her mother commanded the army of Beqanna’s darkest at the time, fell in love with a few Queens, fought a few wars and faded away after raising City to adulthood. The bay mare is a ghost, her voice on the wind, her smell wafting through when it is still and quiet. Sometimes she even moves in the corner shadows, or moves through the mortal world as a wisp. She’s always there, with her speckled daughter.
This darkness though – the broken veil – it has changed something. Her mother no longer haunts her side, there is only emptiness, no voice, no comforting scent or feeling. Her mother was a warrior in life, so perhaps she’s called to one last war – after all, the underworld was spilling over into theirs, relentlessly devouring souls while they stalk the pitch black. City has thus far avoided contact with the monsters, it is easier to do in jaguar form.
Sylva’s border moves under her broad paws without her even knowing at first. She’s far into the territory before she realizes where she is. She has never stopped anywhere for long in the last handful of years, taking smoothly to the vagabond life, roaming in solitude.
Sometime when she realizes her trespassing she smoothly melds back into her born-form as she walks. The old scar-marred mare lets her bones stop rolling somewhere in the deep forest. A bonfire cackles some feet away from her, she remains at its firelight edges, orange only accenting her freckled skin at its sharp edges. She is underweight, her bones showing like her hide is simply pulled tight over her skeleton with no meat between. The shadows flickering across her display depth to her sinking temples and bags beneath her drooping eyes. If does not find her eternal life soon, it appears death may yet have her.
@[Sabra] sorry for the delay in getting this up! hopefully now they can continue their immortality chat <3
old coot just chilling in the middle of the forest, random bonfire casting some light
