Different now than she had been, Briella is a creature of strange beauty: of faerie-like whimsy even now, and of a grace that seemed entirely otherworldly. One who weaves through the wild roses and pink clover, through through the blossoming brush with all their branches bursting with berries and flowers. Vines curl around the trees and plants: strangle whatever they can bind. The low fog lays on the ground and dewy morning air blows through the dense reaches and wild, and Briella drifts through the sunlight piercing the canopy and the nettles: through the fading darkness and all the vast shadows.
Quiet and graceful, she dances for moments- the blonde waves long and curled, and her faux-chocolate coloration faded enough in areas to see where the mutty browns have tangles with the rich earthy chestnut. Long and tall she seems built to run, to move- to fly: her pale blue eyes bright and strange, and she turns them too and fro as she slides through the trees. A tender whistle leaves her lips and for the time a melody is kept, a lullaby from times passed and the ancient ruins of the Chamber.
She stops in mid-step when she hears the sound of someone else, the thudding footfalls and rustling branches and leaves. Those pale eyes watching as she turns herself and staggers for a moment as she feels a tree bumping into her legs. Cautious and wide-eyed she finds him with some note of the golden color of his body: the strength and sheer muscle rippling through him. His face is familiar, the physiology too, and Briella inhales suddenly at the recollection of the man.
His name wasn’t anything uttered, or if it had, she’d forgotten; but nonetheless she remembers the growling faces and anger: the harsh words and all the fury… the chaos. With an uneasy step she slides forward, not towards but almost away- as if she sought to flee; but there is an unintentional misstep and Briella twists in a way that locks her gaze onto his own, that prompts the darkly lined eyes to flutter as she looks away quickly and tries to recover from the way her hoof has slid down the side of a rock.
“Pardon,” she speaks, the old-accent smoky and her voice low. “I hadn’t meant to disturb you.” and with that she walks away from her nemesis the rock and maintains a distance between them, watching and aware of the gleaning ice in her mane and tail, she shimmers of it clinging to the blonde. “You, are…” she mulls over it, thinks and finally is able to speak. “Bruise? I had not caught your name properly before- I am Briella.”
@[bruise]