12-24-2017, 02:04 PM
Time ticked by since their meeting. Epithet had remained barren during the passing of the last few seasons. Their meetings became more and more infrequent but the woman understands so much. She knew it was a matter of time before their faces all blend into the dirt.
Wyrm had been exponential. She had loved the green beast ferociously but his heart still clung (if only by threads) to the other with the all seeing eyes. Had they just simply faded over time? Immortality often left you alone for bouts of uncertain time, to bear witness to rise and fall of many lives. Epithet could sleep away eons and never know the difference.
The woman enters the meadow after deliberation within her own self. The kingdoms with their guided rulers, often were not of a definitive good or evil nature. The flow and flit of their moral compasses were an ebb and flow of day to day iterations. Epithet is not sure if she cares for the new way of things but the nomadic life of forest dwelling had left her quiet for far too long.
She drapes herself in a pale blue silk that drifts to a darker ombre' of indigo from her belly and down to her knees where the glimmering obsidian takes hold to give her shiny black stockings and shoes. The color pleases her greatly as she shakes the indigo into her mane and tail but leaves the ends in a dip dye of black. An indigo dorsal stripe splits the soft blue on her spine as well as powdering her lips.
"There."
She is lovely in her immortal beauty. Only old faces would truly recognize her if they should happen to find her svelte form moving through the field. Epi is content with her chosen abstraction and simply takes the time to pull at a few of the frosted grass shards. She does not chose to adorn herself with horn nor wing for it felt good to slip a nice dress on without the need for gaudy jewelry today. Hopefully, for the first in a long time, she would be sought instead of the seeker.
Wyrm had been exponential. She had loved the green beast ferociously but his heart still clung (if only by threads) to the other with the all seeing eyes. Had they just simply faded over time? Immortality often left you alone for bouts of uncertain time, to bear witness to rise and fall of many lives. Epithet could sleep away eons and never know the difference.
The woman enters the meadow after deliberation within her own self. The kingdoms with their guided rulers, often were not of a definitive good or evil nature. The flow and flit of their moral compasses were an ebb and flow of day to day iterations. Epithet is not sure if she cares for the new way of things but the nomadic life of forest dwelling had left her quiet for far too long.
She drapes herself in a pale blue silk that drifts to a darker ombre' of indigo from her belly and down to her knees where the glimmering obsidian takes hold to give her shiny black stockings and shoes. The color pleases her greatly as she shakes the indigo into her mane and tail but leaves the ends in a dip dye of black. An indigo dorsal stripe splits the soft blue on her spine as well as powdering her lips.
"There."
She is lovely in her immortal beauty. Only old faces would truly recognize her if they should happen to find her svelte form moving through the field. Epi is content with her chosen abstraction and simply takes the time to pull at a few of the frosted grass shards. She does not chose to adorn herself with horn nor wing for it felt good to slip a nice dress on without the need for gaudy jewelry today. Hopefully, for the first in a long time, she would be sought instead of the seeker.
Epithet