lost to these linens / tangerine - Printable Version +- Beqanna (https://beqanna.com/forum) +-- Forum: OOC (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=24) +--- Forum: Archive (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=81) +---- Forum: Lands (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=98) +----- Forum: Tephra (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=85) +----- Thread: lost to these linens / tangerine (/showthread.php?tid=18501) |
lost to these linens / tangerine - Wishbone - 02-26-2018 haze like a fever i fell like a dreamer for sweet tea and lemonade; it clings to my t-shirt it’s loud and it lingers, designed to suffocate. i light up to find what i’ve known all this time, there’s some beauty here yet She’s in the midst of Tephra this time, drying off in the autumn sun after spending the majority of the day in the warmth of a stream close to the volcano’s foothills. The scents of freshwater and warm dirt waft off her body. Despite bathing in the water, she is patchy with layers of dirt that cling to the maturing curves of her body. Wishbone is still a lanky, youthful thing but she is almost a year old and growing quickly. The auburn highlight of her dark mane catches on the dying sunlight. Her eyes turn toward the sky, where faint hints of the constellations of the night are beginning to dance into view. Excitement winds its way into her heart; some of her most peaceful moments are spent in the company of the navy sky with its glowing counterparts. A soft puff of hair leaves the cavities of her lungs before Wishbone’s mahogany head lowers to catch some blades of emerald grass. @[Tangerine] RE: lost to these linens / tangerine - Tangerine - 03-06-2018 Tangerine In the middle of the night, I go walking in my sleep @[Wishbone] Tang writes herself, this go way more rambly than i intended :| RE: lost to these linens / tangerine - Wishbone - 03-10-2018 haze like a fever i fell like a dreamer for sweet tea and lemonade; it clings to my t-shirt it’s loud and it lingers, designed to suffocate. i light up to find what i’ve known all this time, there’s some beauty here yet Wishbone doesn’t know of the confusion she brings with her. She knows her parents are not necessarily in love (not in the way that they nestle together under the glow of stars or sleep with torsos and legs intertwined or murmur sweet nothings into one another’s ears) but there is a connection there, strong and sure. Wishbone does know of the constant of the ocean’s waves, the endless shifting of the seasons, the countless adventures and possibilities the world holds. The mahogany girl also knows that the grass she snatches tastes a hint like brine and smoke. She isn’t sure if the added flavor is tasteful enough to continue eating, but Wishbone doesn’t have to decide when a voice calls her name. Her smooth face lifts from among the tall, shifting blades to see who had called her name. The voice wasn’t familiar, but Wishbone identifies the face from the most recent of Tephra’s meetings. She had seen the way her father had looked at this mare before — a look which never flickered across his face with such severity when he looked at Wound. It strikes suspicion in the low of her belly even now, the expression glinting in the glow of her sunset eyes. Wishbone has never met the honey and ivory woman before, at least not officially. But apparently the stranger knows of her. “You know my father well, don’t you?” She’s never really been a huge fan of beating around the bush. Despite the uncertainty in the shadows of her gaze, Wishbone’s face is relatively soft. The dying autumn sun flashes against her maturing curves and the auburn highlight of her dark, knotted mane. Standing in the tall grasses (which slightly sway from a faint breeze winding between the trees), patched with dirt and shining with twilight glow, she looks every bit a piece of Tephra as the volcano and beaches and lava streams themselves. “What’s your name?” @[Tangerine] RE: lost to these linens / tangerine - Tangerine - 03-22-2018 Tangerine In the middle of the night, I go walking in my sleep RE: lost to these linens / tangerine - Wishbone - 04-02-2018 haze like a fever i fell like a dreamer for sweet tea and lemonade; it clings to my t-shirt it’s loud and it lingers, designed to suffocate. i light up to find what i’ve known all this time, there’s some beauty here yet Wishbone is content with Tangerine’s brief answer. She is on the cusp of her first year, still growing and learning about the world around her, but she is rather intelligent. She knows enough to pick up on the hints that circulate around her — even finding a clue in the way the painted mare’s mouth moves into a sleepy smile. It’s enough for her to come to her own genuine conclusions. The mahogany girl shrugs off her suspicion, rolling her shoulders into a heavy shake that cleanses both the sourness in her stomach and a puff of dirt off her back. She locks away the name to memory — Tangerine, the woman of her father’s affections — and begins to move closer, the shifting blades of grass parting against her chest like an emerald sea. Wishbone’s ears prick up at the proposition Tangerine brings. She’s never been one to stand down mystery or the possibility for adventure. “Sure.” @[Tangerine] |