Ygritte
07-19-2017, 12:53 AM
BETTER BEWARE, I GO BUMP IN THE NIGHT
DEVIL-MAY-CARE WITH A LUST FOR LIFE
DEVIL-MAY-CARE WITH A LUST FOR LIFE
Beqanna had been good to her. She had been once founder and queen alongside Kreios, reigning from the gentle roll of hills, swathed in coniferous trees. She had known all their faces. All their names. They had been happy but then the skies grew dull and the laughter stopped. Her children had grown, suffered, left. She too had escaped into the thick of the brush to find the spotted king but only to return disappointed, empty, alone.
Beqanna had made her suffer.
The amber eyed mare breaches the ground (now foreign) as each salmon tinged leg moves her, nearly gliding over the damp soil and dew drenched flowers. There had been a time when she could bend the very forest to her will but now she is nothing.
Had they all forgotten?
Ygritte shakes them all away, the memories, the change. The sienna woman breathes in the new air as her gaze solidifies upon a glint of gold, a crumpled wing at his side. She does not know fear and would not start now. The woman approaches with the slow roll of shoulder and hip. "Hello." The word is simple and well recognized as it tip toes from her tongue. The stallion is taller but not by much. Ygritte eyes the crippled wing but makes no remark. Perhaps a time or two ago she would have smiled, lifted her head with warmth and welcome but no such thing resides in the bone cage any longer. Long lost is the flower crown that had adorned her pretty head.
The bay mare stops not far from the heavy headed male, his horns undeniably seated in the tangle of mane. He could be impressive but Ygritte does not shy away. Her attention flits between the heavily pregnant bodies of women and the cry of new foals before returning to the goat man. "You seem familiar." She can not quite place him in her history but the scent that radiates from his coat is not a memory she has forgotten. The wasteland lingers on his skin, dry and choking. At this time she could introduce herself, nod and do the royally polite thing but no.
Not this time.
She is no longer a queen.
Beqanna had made her suffer.
The amber eyed mare breaches the ground (now foreign) as each salmon tinged leg moves her, nearly gliding over the damp soil and dew drenched flowers. There had been a time when she could bend the very forest to her will but now she is nothing.
Had they all forgotten?
Ygritte shakes them all away, the memories, the change. The sienna woman breathes in the new air as her gaze solidifies upon a glint of gold, a crumpled wing at his side. She does not know fear and would not start now. The woman approaches with the slow roll of shoulder and hip. "Hello." The word is simple and well recognized as it tip toes from her tongue. The stallion is taller but not by much. Ygritte eyes the crippled wing but makes no remark. Perhaps a time or two ago she would have smiled, lifted her head with warmth and welcome but no such thing resides in the bone cage any longer. Long lost is the flower crown that had adorned her pretty head.
The bay mare stops not far from the heavy headed male, his horns undeniably seated in the tangle of mane. He could be impressive but Ygritte does not shy away. Her attention flits between the heavily pregnant bodies of women and the cry of new foals before returning to the goat man. "You seem familiar." She can not quite place him in her history but the scent that radiates from his coat is not a memory she has forgotten. The wasteland lingers on his skin, dry and choking. At this time she could introduce herself, nod and do the royally polite thing but no.
Not this time.
She is no longer a queen.
Ygritte.