07-11-2019, 09:24 PM
She has left behind the Cove and Litotes and all that she had learned as a child.
It would be cliché of her to say she’s spent the last few years finding herself, and yet here we are. Beqanna had claimed her and molded the girl into one of her own, gifting her with fangs and fire to hunt for her dinners and wings and scales to protect herself from harm, but why? For what? Several years of searching and the girl has yet to find her place in this cold world, but she has to keep trying. The flames that run along the ridge of her spine are the only thing that keep her warm anymore, and growing up lonely is no way to live.
The light of day is fading as she paces along the edge of the meadow, the fire running along her back casting shadows all around the black and red girl. Her red eyes seem focused, but on just what she wouldn’t be able to tell you – she is lost in thought, as she so often appears to be, and the minutes run together as her cloven hooves dig a furrow in the soft earth. She mutters occasionally under her breath, but the words run together so swiftly that passersby may believe she’s speaking another language.
After a time, and the moon has begun to rise, she stops her seemingly endless pacing, eyes now focused on some point far away. Briefly she wonders what to do – investigate this random thought further, or remain here for the rest of the night – but she decides against it, instead choosing to resume her relentless pacing.
By the time morning comes, she will probably have dug a ditch deep enough to swallow her, but she doesn’t stop, and she can’t exactly put a pin on exactly why she doesn’t just... stop.
It would be cliché of her to say she’s spent the last few years finding herself, and yet here we are. Beqanna had claimed her and molded the girl into one of her own, gifting her with fangs and fire to hunt for her dinners and wings and scales to protect herself from harm, but why? For what? Several years of searching and the girl has yet to find her place in this cold world, but she has to keep trying. The flames that run along the ridge of her spine are the only thing that keep her warm anymore, and growing up lonely is no way to live.
The light of day is fading as she paces along the edge of the meadow, the fire running along her back casting shadows all around the black and red girl. Her red eyes seem focused, but on just what she wouldn’t be able to tell you – she is lost in thought, as she so often appears to be, and the minutes run together as her cloven hooves dig a furrow in the soft earth. She mutters occasionally under her breath, but the words run together so swiftly that passersby may believe she’s speaking another language.
After a time, and the moon has begun to rise, she stops her seemingly endless pacing, eyes now focused on some point far away. Briefly she wonders what to do – investigate this random thought further, or remain here for the rest of the night – but she decides against it, instead choosing to resume her relentless pacing.
By the time morning comes, she will probably have dug a ditch deep enough to swallow her, but she doesn’t stop, and she can’t exactly put a pin on exactly why she doesn’t just... stop.
