02-26-2016, 03:07 PM
Her head aches.
A moment ago she had been sleeping, drifting in the dark, and suddenly her world is full of smoke and screams.
The chaos is a balm on her weary bones, and the grey mare picks herself up from the ground, shaking of years of debris as she stands. The sweet scent of her pines is marred by fire, and she can hear the sap of the trees pop and sizzle as the trees ignite. Then, even as she raises her golden eyes to the treetops, the fire is gone and the trees grow closer, and the shimmer of magic lays over it all. She growls in distaste, for now she must find a new way down the mountains from the copse where she had lain.
In the wide sweep of the kingdom below her, the war rages.
Starlace smiles.
Some of the warriors – probably those faring better in their battles – are fighting for the Chamber, and those she ignores. They will be fine without her, and she has never been the type to lend a hand. She wants something harder, something that the rest of them won’t face.
She sees the flash of magic, smells wounds helaing to quickly, watches wolves and lions betray their base instinct, and she knows. They are cheats, the lot of them, using gifts rather than brawn and wit and courage.
Starlace will fight with her teeth and her hooves.
There is a black stallion that smells of sand, and it is toward him that Starlace barrels. Her small, pony-sized body is lithe and agile despite her long rest, and her black mane and tail stream behind her. While the dragon-winged horse guards the snake, Starlace comes up from behind, rearing up and lashing out at his leathery wings with her hooves as she tries to get a hold of the leathery skin with her teeth and tear it away.
A moment ago she had been sleeping, drifting in the dark, and suddenly her world is full of smoke and screams.
The chaos is a balm on her weary bones, and the grey mare picks herself up from the ground, shaking of years of debris as she stands. The sweet scent of her pines is marred by fire, and she can hear the sap of the trees pop and sizzle as the trees ignite. Then, even as she raises her golden eyes to the treetops, the fire is gone and the trees grow closer, and the shimmer of magic lays over it all. She growls in distaste, for now she must find a new way down the mountains from the copse where she had lain.
In the wide sweep of the kingdom below her, the war rages.
Starlace smiles.
Some of the warriors – probably those faring better in their battles – are fighting for the Chamber, and those she ignores. They will be fine without her, and she has never been the type to lend a hand. She wants something harder, something that the rest of them won’t face.
She sees the flash of magic, smells wounds helaing to quickly, watches wolves and lions betray their base instinct, and she knows. They are cheats, the lot of them, using gifts rather than brawn and wit and courage.
Starlace will fight with her teeth and her hooves.
There is a black stallion that smells of sand, and it is toward him that Starlace barrels. Her small, pony-sized body is lithe and agile despite her long rest, and her black mane and tail stream behind her. While the dragon-winged horse guards the snake, Starlace comes up from behind, rearing up and lashing out at his leathery wings with her hooves as she tries to get a hold of the leathery skin with her teeth and tear it away.