12-06-2017, 05:38 PM
Merida
from the ashes, a fire shall be awoken
Home.Where was home?
It had been Loess. And perhaps it would have stayed that way, but he had convinced her otherwise. He had convinced her that her life was meant to be more than that, though not in so many words. He had suggested her greatness, her potential, and it has struck a chord within her, and has not been able to get the thought out of her mind. Her gift, her ability, puts her above the others - it makes her extraordinary, and she should be proud of the fox she has been given.
The black mare with fire in her eyes and in her mane was already keeping herself from others before her gift had been given to her. The solitary lifestyle of the fox suited the mare beautifully, and she is glad that her instincts (both equine and canine) keep her from a herd or pack, though her choice has left her without much to lean on. He is gone with the wind, taken up within the darkness and no longer the mentor or guide (or friend) that she craved, and her daughter has been gone for nearly a year - or perhaps, she is the one who had been gone? She cannot recall and she cannot help that her mind doesn’t linger there for very long - she is wayward, and being bound to Loess or to anyone else would sooner or later cause her to seek out a place anew, beneath the shadows of a forest or cave.
Because of Crevan, she had found Sylva.
Because of him, she lingers within the darkness-drowned forest, familiarizing herself with the trees and the boulders. The stillness of Sylva is moreso than when he was here, and though Merida figures that most have deserted the ever-autumnal wood, she remains.
As bright and bold as the red woods around her, the fox flits beneath the dampened pine-needle encrusted floor, black paws carrying her swiftly beneath the moonlight. She leaps upwards onto a pile of precariously perched rocks, leaping from one to another until she has crawled to the very top, where the boulder is large enough to hold many more besides just her own small frame. She steps out onto the ledge, her claws clicking gently against the cool stone. With a huff, the little fox stares up at the stars that filter through the night sky, her perch just high enough to see out into the sky above her without the forest’s large trees blocking her view. The wolf had shown her this spot, and she returns her most regularly as if one day hoping that she will find him basking beneath the moonlight, a wry smile on his lips with a sharp yip to greet her.
But she is alone, as always.
She sits onto her haunches, her tail wrapping around her paws as she lifts her snout into the air, inhaling the scents of Sylva that have become all too familiar, yet his scent remains stale and stagnant - nearly gone.