So tell me why my Gods look like you?
“Oh,” Oop narrows his ruby red eyes, grumpily muttering under his breath.
“Someone we know?” Nereza grins, though the list of who-they-know is spectacularly short; Oop had kept her hidden, he says, for her own safety—she hadn’t minded, of course, so long as he kept her distracted with history lessons and lectures on practical uses of her strange new abilities.
The spotted mare closes her eyes to focus, tucking her scaly wings in tight to her body and drawing her chin up close to her chest. The position angles the horns along her snout defensively, though she has never had to use them. Whenever something bad happened—the wolves trying to hunt her down, for instance—bizarre things happened. Unbeknownst to her at the time, Nereza had launched them back into the trees, twisting and dismembering the others, their bodies mangled beyond comprehension.
The cougar?
Well, Nereza prefers not to think about that one.
His voice nearly causes her to shiver, though she manages to contain herself. Not so long ago, she had been intrigued by his offer—though the fae who had approached her had planted doubts in her head. She’d been a child back then, indecisive, afraid of being wrong; today, however, is different, and Nereza wonders if he will invite her to his home again.
Rather than opening her eyes or acknowledging him directly, she smiles mischievously, visibly relaxing while the trees around them start to change. The brown bark strips and peels itself away, something fresh and green coming to take its place. The dying leaves come tumbling down all around them in a pretty shower of red, yellow, and orange; in their stead, something bright, and red, and glowing sprouts from the trees’ new green fingers. The smell that fills the air is sweet and familiar, unmistakable to anyone who has come across a rose before. Beneath the two horses, the dull mossy ground ripples, swiftly changing into soft pink and white petals. Taking a deep breath, Nereza exhales slowly and then finally blinks, carefully inspecting her work. A small patch of forest made up entirely of giant roses.
“You have no idea.” She flicks her tail sharply, ignoring Oop who again mutters something else incoherent before disappearing. “You can call me Rez, though. We aren’t in the Field anymore. How’s life been treating you, Reave?”
Oop’s head appears beside hers, his expression torn somewhere between angry and sulking. “Just be careful!” He snaps.
Nereza resists the urge to glare at him, not wanting to disturb the stallion. The pixie’s head blows a loud raspberry at her before vanishing.
“Someone we know?” Nereza grins, though the list of who-they-know is spectacularly short; Oop had kept her hidden, he says, for her own safety—she hadn’t minded, of course, so long as he kept her distracted with history lessons and lectures on practical uses of her strange new abilities.
The spotted mare closes her eyes to focus, tucking her scaly wings in tight to her body and drawing her chin up close to her chest. The position angles the horns along her snout defensively, though she has never had to use them. Whenever something bad happened—the wolves trying to hunt her down, for instance—bizarre things happened. Unbeknownst to her at the time, Nereza had launched them back into the trees, twisting and dismembering the others, their bodies mangled beyond comprehension.
The cougar?
Well, Nereza prefers not to think about that one.
His voice nearly causes her to shiver, though she manages to contain herself. Not so long ago, she had been intrigued by his offer—though the fae who had approached her had planted doubts in her head. She’d been a child back then, indecisive, afraid of being wrong; today, however, is different, and Nereza wonders if he will invite her to his home again.
Rather than opening her eyes or acknowledging him directly, she smiles mischievously, visibly relaxing while the trees around them start to change. The brown bark strips and peels itself away, something fresh and green coming to take its place. The dying leaves come tumbling down all around them in a pretty shower of red, yellow, and orange; in their stead, something bright, and red, and glowing sprouts from the trees’ new green fingers. The smell that fills the air is sweet and familiar, unmistakable to anyone who has come across a rose before. Beneath the two horses, the dull mossy ground ripples, swiftly changing into soft pink and white petals. Taking a deep breath, Nereza exhales slowly and then finally blinks, carefully inspecting her work. A small patch of forest made up entirely of giant roses.
“You have no idea.” She flicks her tail sharply, ignoring Oop who again mutters something else incoherent before disappearing. “You can call me Rez, though. We aren’t in the Field anymore. How’s life been treating you, Reave?”
Oop’s head appears beside hers, his expression torn somewhere between angry and sulking. “Just be careful!” He snaps.
Nereza resists the urge to glare at him, not wanting to disturb the stallion. The pixie’s head blows a loud raspberry at her before vanishing.