05-10-2018, 02:09 PM
haze like a fever
i fell like a dreamer for sweet tea and lemonade; it clings to my t-shirt it’s loud and it lingers, designed to suffocate. i light up to find what i’ve known all this time, there’s some beauty here yet
The rain has finally cleared. Over the past few days, Wishbone has wondered if it would ever stop raining and, thankfully, it has. The mahogany girl weaves between expansive puddles of muddy rainwater, enjoying the sensation of the bitter autumnal wind drying her soaked body. While Nerine’s weather is reckless compared to Tephra’s, Wishbone finds herself falling more and more in love with the kingdom.
Her legs are slick with mud as she makes her way toward the border. Since coming to Nerine in the summer, the girl has already explored every inch of the oceanside kingdom. Boredom begins to linger on the fringes of her mind (never a good thing, especially for her) and a low, unkempt sigh leaves her sable lips. Thin cuts dapple her shoulders and hips from just the day before, when the relentless rain sent her toward the caves and one in particular. Wishbone spent the day exploring the tunnels zig-zagging under Nerine’s cliffs and a few tight spots brought some injuries along with them.
The scent of a foreigner rides on the chill of the wind as she moves through the sloppy landscape. Wishbone’s head rises toward the scent, her ears twisting forward amid tangled, dark tresses highlighted with auburn. It doesn’t take her long to locate the stranger and she approaches at a gentle trot. When she comes to a halt, mud has splattered up her belly and across her chest but a smile crafted of wilderness and adventure is on her mouth.
“I apologize for the sloppiness of Nerine; this is the first break in the rain I’ve seen in a few days.” Her voice is a complex mixture of young and rough from the ash of Tephra; a combination of both honey and whiskey. “I’m Wishbone.” She’s certain the stranger will announce her reasoning behind being on Nerine’s border, so the mahogany girl falls silent after that, her amber eyes roving over the other’s face.
Her legs are slick with mud as she makes her way toward the border. Since coming to Nerine in the summer, the girl has already explored every inch of the oceanside kingdom. Boredom begins to linger on the fringes of her mind (never a good thing, especially for her) and a low, unkempt sigh leaves her sable lips. Thin cuts dapple her shoulders and hips from just the day before, when the relentless rain sent her toward the caves and one in particular. Wishbone spent the day exploring the tunnels zig-zagging under Nerine’s cliffs and a few tight spots brought some injuries along with them.
The scent of a foreigner rides on the chill of the wind as she moves through the sloppy landscape. Wishbone’s head rises toward the scent, her ears twisting forward amid tangled, dark tresses highlighted with auburn. It doesn’t take her long to locate the stranger and she approaches at a gentle trot. When she comes to a halt, mud has splattered up her belly and across her chest but a smile crafted of wilderness and adventure is on her mouth.
“I apologize for the sloppiness of Nerine; this is the first break in the rain I’ve seen in a few days.” Her voice is a complex mixture of young and rough from the ash of Tephra; a combination of both honey and whiskey. “I’m Wishbone.” She’s certain the stranger will announce her reasoning behind being on Nerine’s border, so the mahogany girl falls silent after that, her amber eyes roving over the other’s face.
@[Merida]