cedar smoke and summer rain; any welcome - Printable Version +- Beqanna (https://beqanna.com/forum) +-- Forum: Explore (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=1) +--- Forum: The Common Lands (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=72) +---- Forum: Meadow (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=3) +---- Thread: cedar smoke and summer rain; any welcome (/showthread.php?tid=25827) |
cedar smoke and summer rain; any welcome - Elk - 12-22-2019 She had hoped that from the cover of naked branches, their skeleton fingers thin and gripping, that the meadow would be covered in a blanket of flawless white. Flames of orange and red had coated previously the edges of the meadow in rush pigments that celebrated the coming of autumn and the time of copulation. Elk had taken the refuge between gnarled trunks, thickets of thorns coveting her as the precious creature she was, safe and sound. With the plunge of temperatures too enticing, the rich bay mare crawls her way towards the meadow to seek grass and cold snow waters. Dark limbs pluck cautiously over exposed roots despite the way her hooves sink into the moss choked grounds. Summer had been plentiful with rainfall and bright sunshowers. The grass grew despite the shift in Beqanna that spoke in dead languages to the deceased...urging them to return to their home lands. Breathes capture in small frosted clouds, translucent and drifting, Elk is almost envious of its freedom. Dark eyes flicker from the thickness of her lashes to watch how horses paired up and others flitted along aimlessly. Colors, wings, horns...all were so mesmerizing as she admires them all from the treeline. Just a plain mare, nothing remarkable, nothing outlandish. She emerges into the layer of early snow, limbs high, her rich coat gleaming like molten chocolate as she whickers a gentle greeting to an equine not far away. With ears rotated forward, she listens for a reply, taking the liberty of a few more steps. ((she doesnt have html )) RE: cedar smoke and summer rain; any welcome - Rehu - 12-22-2019 Autumn was one of his most favorite seasons, if not his favorite. R - E - H - U hi. drunk post and first time posting this boy. please bear with me <3 RE: cedar smoke and summer rain; any welcome - Mazeika - 12-23-2019 She’s more like her mother than she knows. A cackling lady, the mare had been nothing more than a phantom in the girl’s shallow memories. There for a minute, and gone for nearing two years, Mazeika struggled with each fading day to recall the face of a woman prone to flight. And as for her father? There was nothing. No smudged image to hold onto or a name to pray to. But was she upset? Hardly. For all she knew, this was simply the norm. And when the leaves fell with the prying wind, and skittered past as if they had a mind of their own, she would smile. Often times, finding herself carried away with the strides of chase, laughing as the leaves swept up and tickled at her hocks when the breeze suddenly changed direction. Today the chase is cut short when she inadvertently drops in on a duo as she crests a dainty slope, just in time to hear the bright lad’s innocent wish. But that’s not the way she hears it, and the words fall beyond her star speckled lips before she can think the better of them, “That’s hardly a nice thing to say,” she chides, though she is clearly the youngest of the trio, a fact that she conveniently ignores as she drops the flat line of her mouth for the upswing of a jubilant smile “I think she’s lovely!” . Her face a slate of strict seriousness, the buckskin girl exchanges a glance from the quiet mare to the remarkable gent, “And honestly, you’re pretty too!” And then With an impish giggle, “Wow, how rude of me to crash your party like that without a proper introduction! My name is Mazeika - Mazy for short. Who might you be?” @[Elk] @[Rehu] RE: cedar smoke and summer rain; any welcome - Neverwhere - 12-23-2019 Neverwhere has been here before, but the place looks... different. The smells are the same, though, the clean scent of grass and the faintly musty one of damp oak and maple, the menthol scent of conifers. They are a riot of color, red and gold, green, blaze orange, and something bordering inexplicably on magenta. Branches curl behind them, some black, others paler, grey-green, silver, and paper-white, peeling, birches. Acorns crunch underfoot. She is drifting and out of her depth, but not lost. Never lost. The dappled mare touches her scarred nose to the damp, rough bark of the large oak beside her and knows what it will feel like before her skin presses against it. She feels that twist in her chest again. Magic. If one can see past the clouds in her eyes, they would see a brief flare of wonder suddenly freeze as her ears fall back against the dark earth-brown of her poll. The skin of her nostrils tightens and she bares her teeth viper-fast, raking them against the tree and scarring it's bark. And then she is still again, ignoring the bitter and tannic taste of the tree's skin caught in her teeth, drying her tongue. It matches the dryness of her throat. Damn it, Heartfire. This place has changed her faster than she thought that it would. She is angry at herself, at loyalties she hadn't meant to let take root within her. The dappled mare lingers beneath the glorious cover of autumn leaves, her creams and chocolate browns blending seamlessly into the warm afternoon light filtering through, avoiding the open areas until she catches the bay mare's soft greeting in her frostbitten ears. It often happens this way, she is in the trees, spotted by someone she hadn't known was there. She sighs. But before Neverwhere can even turn to see who has caught her, a stallion approaches, bright as a poisonous amphibian. He wishes to be as plain as the quiet bay? He should. A third mare arrives, young, raw, she scolds him. The bald-faced mare weaves herself out of the thin tree line, drawing closer to the bay than to the flamboyantly colored pair. "I think it's the most sensible thing I've ever heard anyone say in Beqanna." Neverwhere ... RE: cedar smoke and summer rain; any welcome - Elk - 12-23-2019 OUR BACKS TELL STORIES NO BOOKS HAVE THE SPINE TO CARRY ELK |