[open] Blue Grass

[Tilas]

Before Tilas lies a meadow, a sprawling expanse of life teeming with vibrant hues and gentle whispers. Here, the earth unfolds in a rich tapestry of green, an emerald sea that swims rhythmically with the caress of the breeze. Tilas moves through this verdant landscape with purpose, each step cutting through the undulating grass waves  - Moses - disrupting the graceful sway of the turf. His presence commands attention amidst the tranquility of the scene, a solitary figure amidst the vastness of nature's embrace.

His figure stands as a stark contrast against the landscape, an inky speck amidst the vibrant tapestry of the meadow, appearing sorely out of place. Despite his compact and muscular frame, Tilas moves with a surprising lightness and grace, a delicate dance that belies the turmoil within his heart and mind.

In the usual tranquility of the meadow, a haven for weary souls seeking solace from life's turmoil, Tilas brings with him a shadow of his own dark chaos. Though the temperature holds steady, an unsettling chill permeates the air in his wake, casting a somber veil over the serene landscape.

While exuding an aura of self-reliance, Tilas's demeanor unmistakably betrays him as a foreigner in these lands. Within the annals of this realm, his story stands as an untold chapter, waiting to unfurl amidst the shroud of ambiguity. The pervasive question haunting all minds: friend or foe?

[Lourde]

Lourde had always been a stalwart presence. She possessed a type of fortitude envied by many - not much surprised her, and even less intimidated her. However, she had been shaken by her encounter with the entity in the forest. She thought often of those ghastly obsidian eyes; the way it donned the entrails of its last meal on its horn; the way the doe's blood dripped onto the snow; its skeletal frame that blended with the hawthorn branches; its broken cadence. Weeks had passed, and Lourde still thought often on the creature. She wasn't sure how she felt - it peaked her curiosity, but also petrified her in a way she wasn't used to. She had left it there in the quiet of the forest, though she wonders where the specter lurked. Lourde was glad to have found the meadow, with its sparse trees, she was sure she would see the wraith if it tried to come for her.

Sun warms the turf beneath her hooves as she trots, weaving through the grasses. Lourde had yet to meet a normal horse in this land, though she's not quite sure what she would say. She wasn't the talkative type, but she figures it would be satisfying to see a face that wasn't sunken in and covered in blood, even if it wasn't a friendly face. She hadn't been faced with an adversary she couldn't hold her own against since her childhood, but the phantom in the woods was a foe she knew she couldn't beat. She was stubborn, callous, impulsive...but she was not stupid. 

As if by chance, she catches a scent on the wind. Lourde's nostrils flare, looking for any familiarity but finding none. She looks around, not caring to stop, and her azure eyes find an ebony stallion making is own way through the grasses. She makes no attempt at greeting, rather watches the shadow as he moves through the towering veld. She can sense an aura of chaos around the swarthy steed. Perhaps he would make an introduction, perhaps not - all Lourde really knew is that he was an interesting silhouette on the horizon that she couldn't help but observe. 


@Tilas