05-11-2015, 02:37 PM
She stands alone. A small copse of trees providing cover as she unleashes the anger that has been building inside her breast. It gnaws and burns, ripping, shredding, tearing it's way out her gullet in a guttural scream and manifesting itself in her lashing hooves. The silver girl feels trapped in her skin and releases her frustration on the surrounding flora.
It is as she stands panting, dripping in sweat, that she feels the voice pulse through her. Come to me. it says. A soft croon, just within her range of hearing. It placates the rage, soothes the hurt. Gives her purpose. I need you to find her. Tyrna doesn't know if the yearning she hears is a product of wishful thinking or the voice itself, but it draws her in. It pulls her close and wraps her tightly, giving her the distraction she so desperately needs. She finds her heart has stilled it's frantic beating and her breath is deep and unlabored. Drawing the air into her lungs she bobs her head and whispers back, "I will."
It is as she stands panting, dripping in sweat, that she feels the voice pulse through her. Come to me. it says. A soft croon, just within her range of hearing. It placates the rage, soothes the hurt. Gives her purpose. I need you to find her. Tyrna doesn't know if the yearning she hears is a product of wishful thinking or the voice itself, but it draws her in. It pulls her close and wraps her tightly, giving her the distraction she so desperately needs. She finds her heart has stilled it's frantic beating and her breath is deep and unlabored. Drawing the air into her lungs she bobs her head and whispers back, "I will."