06-07-2018, 04:23 PM
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S ummers in Tephra bring about entirely unattractive heat paired with breathtakingly painted sunsets. Wound will never be able to get over the way the sun drowns itself in the ocean and how the dying light reflects into the sea. It’s one of her favorite natural sights, along with the reflection of the constellations shining into the ocean.While any other evening Wound would find herself along the western coast of Tephra (feet dipping into the lazy, tired waves), instead she is on the eastern side. Everyone in the volcanic kingdom has been on-guard, patrolling the borders with such unforgiving fervor that Wound often wonders when they will all drop down in exhaustion. The tension that lies across Beqanna is thickly-slathered, bringing dense and shadowy thoughts to Wound’s mind whenever she might look across the canal to the mainland. Such thoughts cling to her mind as she looks now, peering into the oncoming darkness as the sun weakly unfurls its final rays of light. There is a stallion just on the other side of the canal, the twilight catching on the deep blue of his mane and tail. At first, terror grips the silvery mare — she nearly darts to run off screaming “Danger! Intruders!” — and her lungs cease to work. But she collects herself, watching for another moment as the stallion seems to speak toward the water before him. She’s often spoken her thoughts aloud to herself (mumbling words against the volcano’s face or into the steam of the hot springs) and thus a tender smile finds her face and she decides he’s likely a recruit trying to cross. Thankfully, the tide is low. In the twilight, the sandbank that rests across the channel is invisible. Wound stands just at the edge of the water, the waves only barely licking the tips of her front hooves, and calls across the expanse. “Welcome, stranger!” Her voice is smooth, falling from her mouth in feminine harmonies. “The tide is low… Please, it is safe to cross.” She would offer them more, but the hush of the waves and the whisper of a humid summer breeze against the trees dampens the strength of her voice. |
credit to nat of adoxography.
@[Crevan] / @[Maugrim]