Corva
In her handful of months being alive he has definitely in her opinion) wandered every inch of Hyaline. Every slice of shore, pine copse, waterfall and ledge-side has been visited by her dainty toes and dancing steps. The creatures from border to border know her, they adore her. She has practiced her craft ever since her mother taught her how and the critters small and large all around have benefitted from it. She gains power with each stroke of her foggy magic, finding her way around it slowly.
Today is one of those days her grandfather is ‘watching’ her. Her favorite kind of day. Each time her mother departs and leaves her own father in charge Corva knows she is free for the day. The agreement between grandchild and grandsire is as follows: “No leaving Hyaline, Don’t get hurt, Be back before your mother.” Simple.
She bid the big speckled stallion a loving goodbye, a promise to be back and then she was off into the woods where she always skittered away to. She has a plan today as she does most days – she dreams up plans while she waits for the days her mother will not hover over her. Get to the eastern border…keep following the water…
Fuck the rules. Today she picks up where she was exploring last time. Where does the river go?
Unceremoniously she breaks through the border, no hesitance in her prancing step. The gushing water guides her, pulls her to it and along its mossy banks. It feels odd to her now to be where she does not recognize. Some birds from home follow her for a while but then even they go back where they know they’re safe. Corva does not, she walks on along the river’s edge until she hears something surprising (to her, anyway). She can hear voices murmur from somewhere beyond the tree’s shadows, drowned by tumbling rapids. The fresh smell of water, moss and roots is spoiled by something foul that makes her pink nose curl and sneeze. “Ugh…” She shakes as if that with get rid of the smell, but of course it doesn’t. Like any good explorer she must find the source, right?
“Are you guys…” Her blows a sneeze from her nostrils as the putrid smell starts to choke her. She can barely keep her watering eyes open to see the sores and the stallion in a poorly state. Her magic fights whatever sickly tentacles still strangle the atmosphere, a pale mist starting rise at her feet and spreading relief as it reaches out. She says no more but steps forward to hang her nose over him. Thick fog, resembling clouds of sparkling mountain mist, pour from her nostrils and mouth to envelope him completely. It works slow, but over a few minutes the pain should numb and the wounds heal and maybe scar (she cannot control that).
like a h e a r t b e a t drives you m a d
sorry if it is shit
if you need to change anything, powerplay her idc
<3
| i was born sick,
BUT I LOVE IT. |  |