to be at peace
A smirk curls the black lips of dark woman as she allows the tiger's eye gaze to flicker over the meadow like a starving brush fire, leaving ash and death in it's wake. The movement feels good as she stretches her limbs in a well verse slinking. She is well accustomed to these temperatures despite the sleekness of her coat that resembled a jaguar's. Word of a new Beqanna is woven in the black curtain of her hair and she carries them like a compass...guiding her.
Hohotep finds the meadow easily. The ice is glassy and slick where once a great grassland once stood and would in the coming spring. The raven of her shadow steps in sync with her as the sun stretches it tall and thin. Despite the cold of winter, a thirst burns dry and hot in her throat. The orange of her eyes blaze forward to seek a source of water, limbs drawing her together collectively. Frosted clouds curl like a sleeping dragon as she breathes against the chilled air. There is a mild annoyance flickering across her features like smoke signals against a blue sky.
Other equines curled close to one another like snaking vines, entrapment. Hohotep does not bother to ask the way to the stream but instead moves on in a leisurely stroll with the proud and pretty poll tall atop the slender muscles of her neck, lids half slit with a bit of a crocked brow. Well, might as well get to know the lay of the land.
hohotep
orange eyed daughter of covet and famke