01-01-2017, 08:12 PM
It is quiet here, she thinks as she traverses the cover of Forest until it opens up into the Meadow. Perhaps she was just too used to the ruckus of the Cove, there were always so many of them after Father took the lead. The air was forever permeated with sex, even when the mares weren’t in season- Father had his way regardless. Mother never complained and Potion had grown so used to the scent it became lost in the salty air. Well, that, and it’s never too quiet anywhere the sea meets the earth, the waves crashing into the cliffs a familiar lullaby. The gulls overhead squalling, the seals barking as they were chased, blubbery bodies retreating into the water as her siblings laughed.
The good old days.
The Mountain had sucked too much from them, making them stoic and watchful. Oh they had ever been watchful but it was the quiet in their eyes that was haunting now.
She’s not used to leaving Ecco but the girl demands tirelessly now that she is heavy with child. Can she be blamed? Potion had known that desperation once, somewhere in the darkness of the Valley among the shadows. Now everything is solitary and pleasant, almost too pleasant and somehow Father must have known that. He had been too eager for them to return to the lands, to remake their place among the people somewhere they could look down on all those worthy of their pastel gaze.
It is because she is watchful that they grey mare spots an all too familiar silhouette against the bark of a spindly tree. Her vibrant wings remarkable and unmistakable (aww too bad Kirke) and it is without caution that she meanders her way forward, curling around the other side of the trunk to face the woman. “Kirke, she breathes with a sly smile, her lavender eyes finding her sister’s swollen stomach in moments.
The good old days.
The Mountain had sucked too much from them, making them stoic and watchful. Oh they had ever been watchful but it was the quiet in their eyes that was haunting now.
She’s not used to leaving Ecco but the girl demands tirelessly now that she is heavy with child. Can she be blamed? Potion had known that desperation once, somewhere in the darkness of the Valley among the shadows. Now everything is solitary and pleasant, almost too pleasant and somehow Father must have known that. He had been too eager for them to return to the lands, to remake their place among the people somewhere they could look down on all those worthy of their pastel gaze.
It is because she is watchful that they grey mare spots an all too familiar silhouette against the bark of a spindly tree. Her vibrant wings remarkable and unmistakable (aww too bad Kirke) and it is without caution that she meanders her way forward, curling around the other side of the trunk to face the woman. “Kirke, she breathes with a sly smile, her lavender eyes finding her sister’s swollen stomach in moments.
POTION
[..we ain't never gettin' older..]