Ygritte
09-27-2026, 08:38 AM
BETTER BEWARE, I GO BUMP IN THE NIGHT
DEVIL-MAY-CARE WITH A LUST FOR LIFE
DEVIL-MAY-CARE WITH A LUST FOR LIFE
She raises her head from the long drink, a shiver capturing her for a moment, uncontrollably. The cold coats her tongue, teeth, and throat, but it feels good; it feels real, even as it consumes her for a brief moment before the warmth of her own blood replaces it. Winter ghosts will soon be driven away by the cheerful chirps and squawks of birds.
Ygritte senses she is not alone before she even needs to turn her face so her good eye can see who it is. Her senses have heightened in her lapse of full sight. It's a prickle, a thickness in how the atmosphere changes, pregnant with anticipation, but she does not feel fear. The heaviness is another sort, collapsing the energy into a tight knot.
"How do you do that?" Pausing briefly before the curiosity drips from the knot. "The flowers." Ygritte contorts her head so she may rest her good eye on her visitor, respectfully, a habit she maintained after she had left her queenship. "I believe they just are...like you and I." Ygritte speaks matter-of-factly but without the callousness. In fact, her tone maintains a gentleness and conjures a little smile from the mare.
Ygritte has time to observe her company with unabashed interest. He is not ghoulish and grotesque to her; he is not the first wendigo she has witnessed. But each time she does, she finds herself slightly lost in the depth of their darkness. Their melanistic skin, antlers, the way needle-edged teeth slip between black lips. Beautiful, if the silent fear of having your throat torn out was not a lingering thought.
Ygritte catches herself, shuddering her good eye for a moment and chuckling softly. "Apologies." She singsong the word before returning her gaze to the wendigo. "I lost my sight when I was a younger mare, and then the flowers bloomed. I suppose a reminder that even something beautiful can come from tragedy," she smiles again, " it tickles a little when they bloom." The shame Ygritte had felt for so long has thankfully dissipated. She imagines she is still beautiful in the eyes of others, but it is magic that keeps her that way, eternally, even on her darkest days. "Watch this.", a gleeful and almost foalish giggle follows. A flash of light ripples over the bay and salmon mare as though passing under dappled tree light, and her coat darkens to the rich, velvet black of a cloudless night sky, stars emerging and glittering across her skin, the begonias following suit. "Neat, huh?" She smiles broadly at the wendigo, her good eye the color of a pale moon and dancing as she loses herself in the magic, if only briefly. "Sorry, I'm Ygritte," A small shyness creeps across her expression as she titters a small laugh, "it's been some time since I've had someone to talk to."
Ygritte senses she is not alone before she even needs to turn her face so her good eye can see who it is. Her senses have heightened in her lapse of full sight. It's a prickle, a thickness in how the atmosphere changes, pregnant with anticipation, but she does not feel fear. The heaviness is another sort, collapsing the energy into a tight knot.
"How do you do that?" Pausing briefly before the curiosity drips from the knot. "The flowers." Ygritte contorts her head so she may rest her good eye on her visitor, respectfully, a habit she maintained after she had left her queenship. "I believe they just are...like you and I." Ygritte speaks matter-of-factly but without the callousness. In fact, her tone maintains a gentleness and conjures a little smile from the mare.
Ygritte has time to observe her company with unabashed interest. He is not ghoulish and grotesque to her; he is not the first wendigo she has witnessed. But each time she does, she finds herself slightly lost in the depth of their darkness. Their melanistic skin, antlers, the way needle-edged teeth slip between black lips. Beautiful, if the silent fear of having your throat torn out was not a lingering thought.
Ygritte catches herself, shuddering her good eye for a moment and chuckling softly. "Apologies." She singsong the word before returning her gaze to the wendigo. "I lost my sight when I was a younger mare, and then the flowers bloomed. I suppose a reminder that even something beautiful can come from tragedy," she smiles again, " it tickles a little when they bloom." The shame Ygritte had felt for so long has thankfully dissipated. She imagines she is still beautiful in the eyes of others, but it is magic that keeps her that way, eternally, even on her darkest days. "Watch this.", a gleeful and almost foalish giggle follows. A flash of light ripples over the bay and salmon mare as though passing under dappled tree light, and her coat darkens to the rich, velvet black of a cloudless night sky, stars emerging and glittering across her skin, the begonias following suit. "Neat, huh?" She smiles broadly at the wendigo, her good eye the color of a pale moon and dancing as she loses herself in the magic, if only briefly. "Sorry, I'm Ygritte," A small shyness creeps across her expression as she titters a small laugh, "it's been some time since I've had someone to talk to."
Ygritte.