02-16-2017, 07:30 PM
More than half of the day had already been spent by the time Circinae found herself creeping past the edges of the woods. This forest, unlike her own, is forbearing to the undergrowth that seems to want to cling to her every step. The straight, robust, cherry-colored trees of her new home are not so kind. Where light splashes in discordant patterns against her two-toned skin here, only a filtered rendition would drift earthwards in the heart of Taiga, covering her and the others in a haze of dreamy light. She realizes, as she inches through the sea of grass, that she cannot hide here so easily. “Safety is only an illusion.” She reminds herself. Best to not forget that.
It’s Autumn in the outside world - or, the beginning of it. The change in Nature’s wardrobe doesn’t necessarily bring her elation, like it might bring to other mares, only serves as a recollection that time is ever marching onward. She wonders, bright blue eyes dancing from one lingering body to the next, if this is what draws curious eyes to where she lingers. Is it her inability to seem so outwardly cheery like the rest? Does the lack of a confident smile single her out? Can they sense (in that strange way that most true prey can) that she isn’t wholly … equine?
Desperate for some sense of normalcy her wandering gaze eventually falls on the likes of a tawny stallion, taller than herself but upon closer inspection relatively similar in age. She hasn’t got much time to choose, as he’s already begun to distance himself from where she’s loitering, but she won’t let the opportunity slip from her grasp. He’s without company and so is she - perfect conditions. Well … suitable conditions. “Wait!” She calls out to him with a high voice. Circinae’s green limbs move on their own accord then, lifting her into a trot that has her gliding across the carpeted surface of the Meadow. It’s only when she’s close enough to see the distinct layering of fine, strong wings crossed over his back that she slows again to a stop. “You weren’t going to leave without saying hello, were you?” She asks, feigning a bruised ego.
It’s Autumn in the outside world - or, the beginning of it. The change in Nature’s wardrobe doesn’t necessarily bring her elation, like it might bring to other mares, only serves as a recollection that time is ever marching onward. She wonders, bright blue eyes dancing from one lingering body to the next, if this is what draws curious eyes to where she lingers. Is it her inability to seem so outwardly cheery like the rest? Does the lack of a confident smile single her out? Can they sense (in that strange way that most true prey can) that she isn’t wholly … equine?
Desperate for some sense of normalcy her wandering gaze eventually falls on the likes of a tawny stallion, taller than herself but upon closer inspection relatively similar in age. She hasn’t got much time to choose, as he’s already begun to distance himself from where she’s loitering, but she won’t let the opportunity slip from her grasp. He’s without company and so is she - perfect conditions. Well … suitable conditions. “Wait!” She calls out to him with a high voice. Circinae’s green limbs move on their own accord then, lifting her into a trot that has her gliding across the carpeted surface of the Meadow. It’s only when she’s close enough to see the distinct layering of fine, strong wings crossed over his back that she slows again to a stop. “You weren’t going to leave without saying hello, were you?” She asks, feigning a bruised ego.
Circinae
I need the crack of a whip, I need some blood in the cut
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