Silence.
It lingers here in the confined dark forest that is pushed off to the side of the meadow. The trees that stand so close together, rise up together, stretching out their hands for something, whether it may be the gods or curiosity. A fog intertwines itself through the trees. There is an eeriness among the forest as it is nothing but still – nothing here seems to live. It is a frightening place, but it does not compare to the home she once knew.
She remembers the cold and darkness. It once was a distant memory, tucked far away, never wanting the memory to resurface again. However, here in the middle of the forest, where she stands, the memories come flooding back and shake her whole core like an earthquake. These trees remind her of the ancient giants that hardly could be seen by the constant thick fog that surrounded them. The stillness of the shadows and the quietness of the land only brings her heartache. Home, she thinks. Yet, this place was not here home. This was not the kingdom she knew, not the Chamber she remembered. This quiet little forest had nothing compared to the ancient giants of the Chamber.
Lucrezia doesn’t quite recall the feeling of the cold against her multicolored skin or the way it sent a chill down her spine. It has been sometime since she had ever felt the breathe of winter on her neck or a thick coat wrapped around her body, hoping to keep the chill away from whatever winter brought that year in the Chamber. It had never happen that way in the sandy dunes she calls home now (Is it my home still?). There was no cold and darkness, except only light and perhaps goodness.
The multicolored mare sighs, a small fog rising quickly from her mouth into the white sky. She moves through the forest in a zig-zag like fashion, keeping close to the trunks and shadows of the trees. The shadows cannot conceal her though. Lucrezia is nothing but an obvious target within the white winter forest – she is covered in spots and peafowl colored markings of white, brown, orange, and yellow. She is alone out here like this, alone in the dead of the wintered forest.
Alone she might always be.
Her body provided little amount of warmth due to her living circumstances in the sandy dunes. Lucrezia once had wings that would have helped her with warmth, but the peacock wings at her side have disappeared long ago. She was nobody now without her wings – a deserter. However, the mare does not mind the coldness that much. The cold made her feel something – alive or dead, or something in between it all. She only needed to feel something in order to feel alive. Yet, sometimes she didn’t feel alive at all, just a soulless body roaming the world.
Lucrezia has lost track of where she has gone in the forest. Nowadays she loses track of her time and place when she dives deep into her mind, clouding her mind of distant memories and thoughts. The smell of smoke and singe fills her nostrils. It is fresh and sharp. She stops in her tracks, her nutmeg eyes tracing across the wintered forest, and inhales the scent again. It does not bother her but instead fills her with curiosity. Lucrezia has always had a heart for adventure, which may never change for her and surely doesn't now.
She is closer to the source more than she realizes. Lucrezia turns to the right and sees the tragedy before her – the monster covered in fire and the dead mare burning. “Oh,” she whispers. It is all she can manage to think of saying at the moment.
It lingers here in the confined dark forest that is pushed off to the side of the meadow. The trees that stand so close together, rise up together, stretching out their hands for something, whether it may be the gods or curiosity. A fog intertwines itself through the trees. There is an eeriness among the forest as it is nothing but still – nothing here seems to live. It is a frightening place, but it does not compare to the home she once knew.
She remembers the cold and darkness. It once was a distant memory, tucked far away, never wanting the memory to resurface again. However, here in the middle of the forest, where she stands, the memories come flooding back and shake her whole core like an earthquake. These trees remind her of the ancient giants that hardly could be seen by the constant thick fog that surrounded them. The stillness of the shadows and the quietness of the land only brings her heartache. Home, she thinks. Yet, this place was not here home. This was not the kingdom she knew, not the Chamber she remembered. This quiet little forest had nothing compared to the ancient giants of the Chamber.
Lucrezia doesn’t quite recall the feeling of the cold against her multicolored skin or the way it sent a chill down her spine. It has been sometime since she had ever felt the breathe of winter on her neck or a thick coat wrapped around her body, hoping to keep the chill away from whatever winter brought that year in the Chamber. It had never happen that way in the sandy dunes she calls home now (Is it my home still?). There was no cold and darkness, except only light and perhaps goodness.
The multicolored mare sighs, a small fog rising quickly from her mouth into the white sky. She moves through the forest in a zig-zag like fashion, keeping close to the trunks and shadows of the trees. The shadows cannot conceal her though. Lucrezia is nothing but an obvious target within the white winter forest – she is covered in spots and peafowl colored markings of white, brown, orange, and yellow. She is alone out here like this, alone in the dead of the wintered forest.
Alone she might always be.
Her body provided little amount of warmth due to her living circumstances in the sandy dunes. Lucrezia once had wings that would have helped her with warmth, but the peacock wings at her side have disappeared long ago. She was nobody now without her wings – a deserter. However, the mare does not mind the coldness that much. The cold made her feel something – alive or dead, or something in between it all. She only needed to feel something in order to feel alive. Yet, sometimes she didn’t feel alive at all, just a soulless body roaming the world.
Lucrezia has lost track of where she has gone in the forest. Nowadays she loses track of her time and place when she dives deep into her mind, clouding her mind of distant memories and thoughts. The smell of smoke and singe fills her nostrils. It is fresh and sharp. She stops in her tracks, her nutmeg eyes tracing across the wintered forest, and inhales the scent again. It does not bother her but instead fills her with curiosity. Lucrezia has always had a heart for adventure, which may never change for her and surely doesn't now.
She is closer to the source more than she realizes. Lucrezia turns to the right and sees the tragedy before her – the monster covered in fire and the dead mare burning. “Oh,” she whispers. It is all she can manage to think of saying at the moment.
Lucrezia
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