Beqanna seemed to beckon her from her castle in the sky. Mountain tops, tall trees, the linger of mist on cool spring mornings. These were her companions since her willing departure from her birth place. At times, Romantica things of her sister...her mother. But it is when she has seen every ocean, scaled every range and covered every last bit of earth her steady limbs could find, she returns.
Nothing is the same.
Beqanna, with her quiet resolve and tireless droning, is different. The old deer paths of childhood are gone and replaced by bent and broken shrubbery of a fire long passed. The earth feels desolate...raped and left for dead. Nostrils expand to expose the delicate pink lining within in effort to find a granule of familiarity, a face, a name. But truly, would any remember the dappled mare?
No. She does not expect it but the instinctive urge to seek out her remains of family tighten her breast. Surely, the ever lasting Prague had not succumb to the change? What of her twin? Deep green eyes rotate, gauging the newly thickened forest with annotations and tucking away her observations. Rom's expression flattens in silent determination as she walks steadily through the overgrown passage ways in hopes to run into another being. The mare had spent the past three years in chosen solitude but now...now she needs to see another face, know another name to feel the reassurance that she is not alone.
To know Beqanna is not a bleak and barren land of rusted memories and jagged edges.
Nothing is the same.
Beqanna, with her quiet resolve and tireless droning, is different. The old deer paths of childhood are gone and replaced by bent and broken shrubbery of a fire long passed. The earth feels desolate...raped and left for dead. Nostrils expand to expose the delicate pink lining within in effort to find a granule of familiarity, a face, a name. But truly, would any remember the dappled mare?
No. She does not expect it but the instinctive urge to seek out her remains of family tighten her breast. Surely, the ever lasting Prague had not succumb to the change? What of her twin? Deep green eyes rotate, gauging the newly thickened forest with annotations and tucking away her observations. Rom's expression flattens in silent determination as she walks steadily through the overgrown passage ways in hopes to run into another being. The mare had spent the past three years in chosen solitude but now...now she needs to see another face, know another name to feel the reassurance that she is not alone.
To know Beqanna is not a bleak and barren land of rusted memories and jagged edges.
Romantica
still getting use to this lovely, bear with me
