09-25-2015, 09:30 AM
The fire is comforting. Shaytan is bruised and terribly, terribly sore from the Gates shenanigans, owing mostly to her own ineptitude at… well, much of anything. Here, the spotted bunny blood-drinker rests, curled up by the flickering flame of the half-grown tree. There is no snow within a good fifteen feet circumference of their special thing, and it is within that immediate area that she lies. It’s comforting and mesmerizing all at once. Brynmor is right to describe it as in harmony with its surroundings. It’s very Moses like; Moses and the Burning Bush, minus the snakes and make that bush a little bit taller…
Anyway. Shaytan is lounging quietly by the tree when an unknown stallion slowly picks his way through the trees towards them. Like a moth to a flame, she thinks. But he doesn’t acknowledge her (almost as if he doesn’t see her – imagine that!), and so Shaytan peers at him suspiciously. She can’t see the milky white of his eyes, so she demands impetuously (but not loudly) “Who are you?” Some other captive (they should not be near the tree!), a new Chamberling?
It might almost be as if the flames themselves were talking, if the stranger couldn’t see her.
[sorry this is shit :/ ]
Anyway. Shaytan is lounging quietly by the tree when an unknown stallion slowly picks his way through the trees towards them. Like a moth to a flame, she thinks. But he doesn’t acknowledge her (almost as if he doesn’t see her – imagine that!), and so Shaytan peers at him suspiciously. She can’t see the milky white of his eyes, so she demands impetuously (but not loudly) “Who are you?” Some other captive (they should not be near the tree!), a new Chamberling?
It might almost be as if the flames themselves were talking, if the stranger couldn’t see her.
[sorry this is shit :/ ]