01-11-2017, 04:44 PM
Nightfall --
Cold, beautiful nightfall.
It found her bereft of them, all of them - for once.
She tastes a strange freedom on her tongue that starts to curdle the more she eyes the dry ravages that make up Pangea. Since neither colt flanks her, since their father fails to keep her under a sterner eye, Sinew deviates from the same dusty track that she has kept to since her return there, with the twins in tow. She laughs aloud, bitter, harried; thinking back to a few days’ ago and how she had chased them from her lean milk-free sides in a series of kicks and bites, a language that they knew all too well but proved to be far more obstinate than she gave them credit for. Her brats, beloved as they are, would suck her dry if given half a chance to do so, and it made her smile queerly proud to think of it. But alas, the night beckons and as such, she alters her course to stray away from Pangea.
She finds a familiar haunt - the Meadow.
It seems sparse in its population, even though she skirts those few that do life their heads and snort to her in passing. She ignores them, they’ll sleep and dream and moan over lost things that were never theirs’ to keep and she is one of those things that cannot be kept, sleeps little, and dreams a lot - dark dreams, of boar tusks and goat horns, cloven feet and fires in the flesh. Sinew thinks of death and decay, starlight and shards of ice, love and fear and in her thinking, discovers him - he reeks of it, death. Seems to rot from the inside out, and her black eyes find his putrid face in the dainty dark curve of night’s embrace.
“Cold out,” she murmurs, because it is a damp cold - not like the dry cold of Pangea, and she has not felt a cold like this in a long while. Or smelled a rot like his since she last stood in direct confrontation of her father and his fetid self as gobbets of flesh fell from his bones like snow from the trees. He reminds her of him - of Infection, but he is far too different to be him. Still, she dares not to come between him and the Night more than she already has but Sinew, is curious.
Cold, beautiful nightfall.
It found her bereft of them, all of them - for once.
She tastes a strange freedom on her tongue that starts to curdle the more she eyes the dry ravages that make up Pangea. Since neither colt flanks her, since their father fails to keep her under a sterner eye, Sinew deviates from the same dusty track that she has kept to since her return there, with the twins in tow. She laughs aloud, bitter, harried; thinking back to a few days’ ago and how she had chased them from her lean milk-free sides in a series of kicks and bites, a language that they knew all too well but proved to be far more obstinate than she gave them credit for. Her brats, beloved as they are, would suck her dry if given half a chance to do so, and it made her smile queerly proud to think of it. But alas, the night beckons and as such, she alters her course to stray away from Pangea.
She finds a familiar haunt - the Meadow.
It seems sparse in its population, even though she skirts those few that do life their heads and snort to her in passing. She ignores them, they’ll sleep and dream and moan over lost things that were never theirs’ to keep and she is one of those things that cannot be kept, sleeps little, and dreams a lot - dark dreams, of boar tusks and goat horns, cloven feet and fires in the flesh. Sinew thinks of death and decay, starlight and shards of ice, love and fear and in her thinking, discovers him - he reeks of it, death. Seems to rot from the inside out, and her black eyes find his putrid face in the dainty dark curve of night’s embrace.
“Cold out,” she murmurs, because it is a damp cold - not like the dry cold of Pangea, and she has not felt a cold like this in a long while. Or smelled a rot like his since she last stood in direct confrontation of her father and his fetid self as gobbets of flesh fell from his bones like snow from the trees. He reminds her of him - of Infection, but he is far too different to be him. Still, she dares not to come between him and the Night more than she already has but Sinew, is curious.