Cosmos
Pangea is barren.
Cosmos mourns the disappearance of Yidhra. Everyday she walks the borders of her diseased land, murmuring prayers into the dirt for her Archon to return. She never does make an appearance, not quite filling the filly with regret but sending an ache down her spine. Her nose droops to the ground daily, searching the earth for even a faint hint of her leader; and each day passes with Yidhra’s scent growing fainter.
Oh, how she mourns; but the need to honor her Squidra by keeping Pangea safe grows stronger.
So, when Eight makes yet another move upon her land, Cosmos responds. The pink girl is no fool - she can sense the other’s power. She thinks there may not be a grand opposition, but she will make her stand. He has wriggled within the borders of Pangea for too long. A thought strikes her: how has he not sensed her presence? The way he speaks and presents himself, one would assume he would know when he is being watched. Perhaps he does know, finding Cosmos of no consequence. This makes the pegasus smile and shuffle her wings against her sides in delight.
Think naught of me, magic man.
The air is still when she steps before Eight. One lavender and one gold eye - both twinkling with a stern fascination.
“Eight,” she begins, voice feminine and far too soft for the claims she will be making. “You have no claim here. The East will not recognize you as Archon. You are a blight compared to Yidhra.” Cosmos’ tone claims no offense, ever soft and wise: firm in statement and sweet in delivery.
Cosmos mourns the disappearance of Yidhra. Everyday she walks the borders of her diseased land, murmuring prayers into the dirt for her Archon to return. She never does make an appearance, not quite filling the filly with regret but sending an ache down her spine. Her nose droops to the ground daily, searching the earth for even a faint hint of her leader; and each day passes with Yidhra’s scent growing fainter.
Oh, how she mourns; but the need to honor her Squidra by keeping Pangea safe grows stronger.
So, when Eight makes yet another move upon her land, Cosmos responds. The pink girl is no fool - she can sense the other’s power. She thinks there may not be a grand opposition, but she will make her stand. He has wriggled within the borders of Pangea for too long. A thought strikes her: how has he not sensed her presence? The way he speaks and presents himself, one would assume he would know when he is being watched. Perhaps he does know, finding Cosmos of no consequence. This makes the pegasus smile and shuffle her wings against her sides in delight.
Think naught of me, magic man.
The air is still when she steps before Eight. One lavender and one gold eye - both twinkling with a stern fascination.
“Eight,” she begins, voice feminine and far too soft for the claims she will be making. “You have no claim here. The East will not recognize you as Archon. You are a blight compared to Yidhra.” Cosmos’ tone claims no offense, ever soft and wise: firm in statement and sweet in delivery.
devil in the details
@[Eight]