And still insists he sees the ghosts; Balto - 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: Forest (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=73) +---- Thread: And still insists he sees the ghosts; Balto (/showthread.php?tid=27088) |
And still insists he sees the ghosts; Balto - Nikoline - 06-04-2020 Nikoline with stoutest wrists and loudest boasts, he thrusts his fists against the posts and still insists he sees the ghosts. The mountain has left her drifting, a dusted pale moth weaving between rock and rubble, heeding a call from the forest to melt into it’s woody embrace. She is safe here, they whisper their words of endearment and silent cries of rejoice that their mother horse has founding her seedlings, now grown and flourishing. Beqanna could be burned, broken, left blood soaked in a wake of terror but still the grass creeps between empty eye sockets and crooked teeth to take back what was once wild and green. The soft glow of the cherry blossom dryad hovers and moves as she picks her way soundlessly upon wooden points. The delicate pink of her blossoms shiver and cling to the branches of her mane and tail as a silent protest to the cold cloaked nightfall. The sun drops behind the naked fingers of the splinter trees, her breath escapes in hollowed, frosted plumes. She is scare, confused. Nikoline does not know why she is resurrected again in dangerous land but it was not for loss. Decaying were leaves waft from between the fracture frost of a late snow and it makes her heady. She is a fragile creature that was ethereal and otherworldly, a foreigner in a land that forged her from nightmare and ecstasy. The small plumes of her jagged breathes expand and she must find support against an ancient oak, her brow pressed to the deep winkles of it’s dormant bark. Magic crept just beyond the shadows of her doe-like eyes and yet it still eludes her. The lids of her wide eyes feel heavy, heavy, heavy... A messenger wind suddenly divulges the scent of other equines in the forest. It draws her forefront quickly and she finds her breath clutched in her throat. Was there something familiar about it? The dryad pushes herself from the oak to stand, listening. She seems as if she has frozen in her place as she waits for the bearer of the nameless musk breaks through the small thicket to reveal themself. Speech, @tagged TABLE BY CISSY, ART BY ELDAFER RE: And still insists he sees the ghosts; Balto - Balto - 06-06-2020 i’ve been both a saint & a viper Balto @[Nikoline] RE: And still insists he sees the ghosts; Balto - Nikoline - 06-06-2020 Nikoline
with stoutest wrists and loudest boasts, he thrusts his fists against the posts and still insists he sees the ghosts. The moon has slyly cloaked herself in darkness, a cruel trick to play upon the dryad mare as she struggles to pick her way though tangled vines and cracked stones alike. Thankfully she has merged with the flora and it weaves a small path of guidance, the marks of cloven hooved deer are proven passage that she is not the only one to awaken during the witching hour. Lids fall over her dark eyes as she halts her advancement to draw a frozen breath. A deep draw, her sides expanding, as she filters the layers of the dark night. The taste of salted sweat and fear, black waters engulfing the weak, the meager wails of an early spring born fawn. It is all overwhelming. From a distance there comes the sound of weighted body and creaking bones. Hooves cracked and flecked are crushing stone and stick alike. Her eyes snap open with a breath captured in her throat...something is just beyond her eyes... The plants whisper their warnings against the soft glow of her skin. They beg her to turn and flee, to melt into the bark of the cherry blossom tree camouflage, to do anything other than just stand there... He is masculine, the taste of his scent is musk and hide. The stallion slithers near with a snaking head and unreflective eyes...dead eyes. Nikoline barely hears his words above the rapid beat of her heart. She flutters from one wooden point to the other, teetering briefly like a caged bird. ”I remember all.” The years leech into her skin, knowledge, fear, memories are flooding her at the male’s nearness. He contours memories of demons and fear. Her skin tingles and electrifies despite her inability to make out more than a shadow in the darkness. The glow of her skin simply outlines a mouth and nostrils. ”The demons...” Niko begins as she attempts to swallow her fear but it swells in her heart. He is different...changed...dangerous. ”Wh-what happened?” The dryad stammers softly, her pink tongue flashing as she trips along the slivered edge of her own words. She knows she will not like the answer she will receive but is powerless to not inquire. A quagmire of memories threaten to drown her just beyond the ridge of her consciousness, quicksand words slipping between gritted teeth. Speech, @tagged RE: And still insists he sees the ghosts; Balto - Balto - 06-07-2020 i’ve been both a saint & a viper Balto @[Nikoline] this went dark real fast D: |