Run.
One word to be looped inside her skull, buried so deep its claws rip at the remnants of scattered thoughts. Even when her lungs beg her to stop, sweat soaked hide positively burning, legs threatening to buckle, she barrels through the pain. She can barely breathe, wheezing respiration chokes her throat, perhaps a trickle of her own blood escapes flared nostrils but Famkee ignores it.
Keep. Running.
Something she couldn't ignore, the poisonous slough of repeated commands haven't stopped her. Would she care if her heart gave out? Daydreaming of the idea takes her somewhere else, better, tangible even. Death followed the mare like it waited for her around every dark corner, it's starlit cloak surrounding her in familiarity, and dare she say, it felt like home. It wasn't just a feeling though, it was her reality. Beqanna had proven to be no different, in it's throes of collapse death hung stagnant in the air, heavy as it presses on her heaving lungs. She doesn't know why or how the lands came to be this way, but Famkee begins to believe she's cursed. Cataclysm has become a close friend, one that leans its weight on her shoulders.
The steady drumbeat of hooves punishing the earth is her only anchor for what materializes in front of her, once thought to be dodging trunks of trees now lays bare a lake glittering like a fictitious mirage. Is she really dead? Did the whisper of demise embody her mind, manifest as simple words telling her to run to the light, run to the other side? She feels as though some ethereal force actually stops her legs from carrying her any further to just look. She's not sure if she's seen anything like it, the night so blinding she'd swear it was the sun casting it's rays along the bank bathing the waves of the lake in a silvery light. Starkly, two shadows paint the bank that she squints to try and see but they are much too concealed by the irony the basking pearly florescence brings. A dream maybe she thinks, it would be the only explanation for this. But this, it feels real, the soft gnawing of the sand at her hooves, the gentle breeze allowing it's fingers to play with her mane. She finds herself closer, and it's only then the scene unfolds.
Two bodies lie in the stillness of death, tender waves lap at cold skin and for a moment, this feeling traveling up her gut feels very real. She can't seem to find the need to escape, to turn around, nor does she shrink at the sight, though the body to her left looks to be an invention of the gods, cast down to rein havoc on the living with her tentacles deflated like a cephalopod would on land. If that wasn't strange enough, not one but two heads bob along with the rising and falling of the tide. She had known of the creatures who lurked beneath the sea, though her first encounter with one in this way, she wants to lower her head in disdain. The other is a winged equine, fairly normal in comparison, but both are littered with scars fresh with blood that glitters along with the starlight and the beings that dance around the deceased.
Two opposing beings it seems, one of the sea and one of the sky. Did they kill one another? Were they murdered? In positions of power, or perhaps commoners? Possibly something she has no business sticking her nose into, but if things couldn't get any stranger, Famkee doesn't feel afraid. Fear has long since tucked its tail and perished to join the pair at her feet. She doesn't see anyone else, other than the sprites beckoning her with every call that begins to pull her attention away and to a sort of portal manifesting in a cyclone of clouds. Nothing is surprising at this point and if she really is dead, what is there to lose. If she really is alive, what is there to lose. Perhaps the curiosity, the numbness fuels her need to step into the unknown and forget all that she's leaving behind. It's a wonderful, blissful thought that Famkee embraces as she plunges into the cloudy vessel.
One word to be looped inside her skull, buried so deep its claws rip at the remnants of scattered thoughts. Even when her lungs beg her to stop, sweat soaked hide positively burning, legs threatening to buckle, she barrels through the pain. She can barely breathe, wheezing respiration chokes her throat, perhaps a trickle of her own blood escapes flared nostrils but Famkee ignores it.
Keep. Running.
Something she couldn't ignore, the poisonous slough of repeated commands haven't stopped her. Would she care if her heart gave out? Daydreaming of the idea takes her somewhere else, better, tangible even. Death followed the mare like it waited for her around every dark corner, it's starlit cloak surrounding her in familiarity, and dare she say, it felt like home. It wasn't just a feeling though, it was her reality. Beqanna had proven to be no different, in it's throes of collapse death hung stagnant in the air, heavy as it presses on her heaving lungs. She doesn't know why or how the lands came to be this way, but Famkee begins to believe she's cursed. Cataclysm has become a close friend, one that leans its weight on her shoulders.
The steady drumbeat of hooves punishing the earth is her only anchor for what materializes in front of her, once thought to be dodging trunks of trees now lays bare a lake glittering like a fictitious mirage. Is she really dead? Did the whisper of demise embody her mind, manifest as simple words telling her to run to the light, run to the other side? She feels as though some ethereal force actually stops her legs from carrying her any further to just look. She's not sure if she's seen anything like it, the night so blinding she'd swear it was the sun casting it's rays along the bank bathing the waves of the lake in a silvery light. Starkly, two shadows paint the bank that she squints to try and see but they are much too concealed by the irony the basking pearly florescence brings. A dream maybe she thinks, it would be the only explanation for this. But this, it feels real, the soft gnawing of the sand at her hooves, the gentle breeze allowing it's fingers to play with her mane. She finds herself closer, and it's only then the scene unfolds.
Two bodies lie in the stillness of death, tender waves lap at cold skin and for a moment, this feeling traveling up her gut feels very real. She can't seem to find the need to escape, to turn around, nor does she shrink at the sight, though the body to her left looks to be an invention of the gods, cast down to rein havoc on the living with her tentacles deflated like a cephalopod would on land. If that wasn't strange enough, not one but two heads bob along with the rising and falling of the tide. She had known of the creatures who lurked beneath the sea, though her first encounter with one in this way, she wants to lower her head in disdain. The other is a winged equine, fairly normal in comparison, but both are littered with scars fresh with blood that glitters along with the starlight and the beings that dance around the deceased.
Two opposing beings it seems, one of the sea and one of the sky. Did they kill one another? Were they murdered? In positions of power, or perhaps commoners? Possibly something she has no business sticking her nose into, but if things couldn't get any stranger, Famkee doesn't feel afraid. Fear has long since tucked its tail and perished to join the pair at her feet. She doesn't see anyone else, other than the sprites beckoning her with every call that begins to pull her attention away and to a sort of portal manifesting in a cyclone of clouds. Nothing is surprising at this point and if she really is dead, what is there to lose. If she really is alive, what is there to lose. Perhaps the curiosity, the numbness fuels her need to step into the unknown and forget all that she's leaving behind. It's a wonderful, blissful thought that Famkee embraces as she plunges into the cloudy vessel.
if my heart is in your hands will i die
Famkee
![[Image: EOU990v.png]](https://i.imgur.com/EOU990v.png)
Famkee [Fahm-key]