05-13-2017, 02:53 PM
Alayaya was alone as she wandered through Beqanna’s various dominions. In her freedom, she was a bead of sunlight, lithe and unattainable as she waltzed over landscapes which, somehow, were simultaneously old and new. Untouched wild country barely scarred by newly trodden paths which was yet full of history and whispered memories, just below the surface. Like Alayaya herself, there were layers of new beginnings, almost-forgotten disasters and forgotten secrets wrapped over the divided country of Beqanna.
Whether intentionally, or by coincidence of wandering she came along a pass between the stony peaks that guarded the boundaries of the Lake just after the sun had climbed high enough to pour its pale morning light down their slopes and into the country. From the east and out of this light, or through it, came the palomino filly that morning. With the impetuous license of a child she never considered that her presence might not be welcome. Although she was silent, mere visual spectacle among the stones, there was a sing-song cadence to her steps and the innocence of her bold but hapless actions. Wreathed in sunlight she was almost ephemeral. She is sunlight and air, light trapped against the earth, and she shines with an unabashed vanity that contradicts her timid grace. Wisps of golden mane clung to pale skin, the sheen of sweat glittered lightly over her shoulders, but her eyes were bright and cold, sweet and open as they reached across the bare trees, craggy mountains and frosted green toward the center and the lake itself. As they fell upon the lake there was a curious transformation of her features and her little frame. Stillness settled over her, and the blank surprise of disbelief replaced a careless smile. The surface of the water drew no attention to itself but her eyes clung to it as though parched. The metallic sheen of her skin, the long thin legs and the delicate, carefully sculpted features of her face betrayed a desert breeding and long, unbroken generations of heat, sand, and survival.
Wordless, she drifted forward, her eyes arrested on the water. She was entranced by the site of the Lake, as though such a thing were not possible. Her feet carried her lightly on, losing the playfulness of the previous moments, without the embellished dancing or the fits of speedy energy that branded her youth. She appeared older than she was, at that moment, her movements were without pretention but possessed of too much quiet confidence for a filly of her age.
She halted at the water’s edge, her eyes lost below its surface but unseeing of the lake bed, awe and something else, something like fear, writ in them. She was still, framed against the mountains behind her, glittering in the shifting light of the sun’s angle above, her feet not quite touching the edge of the water.
a l a y a y a
OOC: This is not amazing. But I have been meaning to write this post for a while and I was tired of putting it off.