09-29-2015, 09:35 PM
love is a temporary madness...
It has been quite a while since she had visited the field. Too long. But then, she has had good reason for remaining a recluse. But she cannot remain so forever. Even were she not such a naturally gregarious creature, she has responsibilities to see to. She had shirked them long enough. So, though walking is still painful, she makes the journey.
The trek takes more time than it might have had she simply flown. She had tried, but the fear had clutched at her breast and she had remained grounded. She would have to learn to get over that soon. But today she decides to walk. And because of her sore shoulder, it takes a little longer than she had anticipated.
Nevertheless, she makes it, only a little worse for wear. Her shoulder aches something fierce as she arrives. Perhaps she should have waited after all. But she is nothing if not determined. And today she has it in spades. The benefit of walking is having the time alone, to think, to consider. Granted, she has spent an inordinate amount of time lately by herself, leaving her plenty of time to think. But the walk from the Dale had only served to boost her resolve, her confidence.
As reaches the borders of the field, covered in later winter snow and ice, she pauses to consider who she should approach. Her russet eyes land upon a dusky painted mare with golden trinkets in her ears and around her fetlocks, causing her curiosity to peak.
Stepping forward, she approaches, favoring her right foreleg as she does so. Her bright red coat has grown thick for the winter, but the scars etched into her torso from rump to shoulder are still visible despite her rather shaggy hair. Those scars, and the limp, tell a gruesome story, the story of why she had gone into seclusion. But now she is ready to confront the world, and what better place to do that than here?
A stallion has already found the mare, and as she nears, she hears the last bit of his greeting. She smiles warmly at the pair, offering a friendly greeting of her own.
“I do hope I am not interrupting! I am Elysteria, of the Dale. Skull, is it? A pleasure to meet you.”
Her soft, cinnamon gaze shifts to the painted mare as she turns the conversation to her, smile resting easily upon her lips.
“And you, as well. Can I ask your name?”
The trek takes more time than it might have had she simply flown. She had tried, but the fear had clutched at her breast and she had remained grounded. She would have to learn to get over that soon. But today she decides to walk. And because of her sore shoulder, it takes a little longer than she had anticipated.
Nevertheless, she makes it, only a little worse for wear. Her shoulder aches something fierce as she arrives. Perhaps she should have waited after all. But she is nothing if not determined. And today she has it in spades. The benefit of walking is having the time alone, to think, to consider. Granted, she has spent an inordinate amount of time lately by herself, leaving her plenty of time to think. But the walk from the Dale had only served to boost her resolve, her confidence.
As reaches the borders of the field, covered in later winter snow and ice, she pauses to consider who she should approach. Her russet eyes land upon a dusky painted mare with golden trinkets in her ears and around her fetlocks, causing her curiosity to peak.
Stepping forward, she approaches, favoring her right foreleg as she does so. Her bright red coat has grown thick for the winter, but the scars etched into her torso from rump to shoulder are still visible despite her rather shaggy hair. Those scars, and the limp, tell a gruesome story, the story of why she had gone into seclusion. But now she is ready to confront the world, and what better place to do that than here?
A stallion has already found the mare, and as she nears, she hears the last bit of his greeting. She smiles warmly at the pair, offering a friendly greeting of her own.
“I do hope I am not interrupting! I am Elysteria, of the Dale. Skull, is it? A pleasure to meet you.”
Her soft, cinnamon gaze shifts to the painted mare as she turns the conversation to her, smile resting easily upon her lips.
“And you, as well. Can I ask your name?”
elysteria