love is a temporary madness...
The day dawns bright and cold, a precursor of the winter soon to come. The sky is a clear, pale blue, allowing the sun the shine unfettered onto the swiftly changing earth. Though nothing inhibits the bright rays of the sun, the air remains stubbornly chilly. The wind is quiet, giving the day a hushed stillness uncommon for the capriciousness often exhibited by the season. The red mare stands just as quietly amongst the thinning trees that edge the meadow. An occasional leaf flutters down from the canopy above, coming to rest on the well-trodden ground beneath her feet.
She had woken that morning with a restlessness in her blood. She could not name the cause of that feeling, could not pinpoint why today she is unsatisfied with the iconic tranquility of the Dale. She knows only that her feet are restive, her soul disquieted. And so, here she stands, amongst the sparse trees edging the meadow, unsure of why she cannot still her roiling thoughts.
She has been happy in the Dale. So incredibly happy. Certainly this ennui cannot last. But she cannot identify the reason for it, cannot combat an unknown foe. She knows only that she is unsettled. Russet gaze scanning the expanse before her, she wears an uncustomary frown upon her lips. Under normal circumstances, she might have approached someone, struck up a conversation. She so enjoys meeting new horses. But today she fears that she would pass her frustration on to another, knows that she would be poor company indeed. So she simply settles into her chosen alcove, the quietness of her body belying the loudness of her mind.
She had woken that morning with a restlessness in her blood. She could not name the cause of that feeling, could not pinpoint why today she is unsatisfied with the iconic tranquility of the Dale. She knows only that her feet are restive, her soul disquieted. And so, here she stands, amongst the sparse trees edging the meadow, unsure of why she cannot still her roiling thoughts.
She has been happy in the Dale. So incredibly happy. Certainly this ennui cannot last. But she cannot identify the reason for it, cannot combat an unknown foe. She knows only that she is unsettled. Russet gaze scanning the expanse before her, she wears an uncustomary frown upon her lips. Under normal circumstances, she might have approached someone, struck up a conversation. She so enjoys meeting new horses. But today she fears that she would pass her frustration on to another, knows that she would be poor company indeed. So she simply settles into her chosen alcove, the quietness of her body belying the loudness of her mind.
elysteria