Jah-Lilah
lightening strikes, maybe once, maybe twice
Don’t lose your way with each passing day.
A bittersweet aura surrounded the hopeless wanderer as she made her way casually to the Dragon-King’s once-and-always territory. The trek was lengthy, but welcome. It felt like eons had passed her by since she had departed on her pilgrimage to find her progeny, her journey was like discovering Beqanna all over again. Things had changed, time had passed, but the land was as bountiful and stunning as ever.
Jah-Lilah had said one more final goodbye wrapped in a song and a prayer to her dear departed, then had followed the coastline until it brought her to the mouth of the river. The life-giving fresh water had accompanied her North, it was both her faithful companion and her guide as she traversed through the heart of Beqanna to find Hyaline. The Plains were open and warm, reminding her of the untamed place where she had spent her childhood, it almost filled her with sorrow to leave them behind.
Her malachite eyes witnessed the newcomers pouring into the realm, some filled with excitement and wonder, others timid, seeking a herd and family with the first beast they could so desperately cling to. The wytch can’t help but recall her first day here, and again she finds herself grinning as she weaves her way betwixt the forest and the meadow. When the trees part they reveal a sight for weary eyes, the endless expanse of mountains jutting haphazardly into the sky. They are remarkable but organized chaos, each piece of earth fitting into the next like a puzzle that surely only the Earth-Mother had the answer to. When she finally enter the territory, she is filled to the brim with stimuli, and each new smell and sound awakens her love for this life a little more.
Her Dragon-King has painted the countryside with his scent, and it makes her feel instantly secure here, there is a consistency in her life that he provides that she’s never possessed and never had the desire for until now. Until him. Suddenly she misses her Wolf-of-the-Water again, but fights the urge to flee back to the Beach, back to solitude. Another odor hits her now though, and it causes her to stand up straight and pay attention. Her ears are erect and her eyes scan the place for him, her nostrils flaring and sucking in all the air they can, she’s straining to find the source. My sorceress is desperately looking for Crevan.
He is here, and he is furious. His soul pressure is crushing, all his fire and brimstone is on display, and it is all for her. The red wytch has the inkling that he may take her immortal life today. If that was what the Earth-Mother had planned for her though, what could she do to prevent it? Without warning, voices, not one but two she is incredibly familiar with, reach her ears. Steeling herself for whatever may be ahead, she licks her lips and creeps closer, trying to remain silent as possible so she can focus on locating the stallions. It doesn’t take her long.
There is her rock, solid and stoic, so even-tempered and loving. The scaled desert stallion greets the changeling with the diplomacy and warmth he is known for, and her heart skips a beat. Observing the pain that her colt goes through when the Dragon-King’s nihilism touches him and he is forced into his birth form wounds her, causes her to wince as he wobbles on stilts not unlike the day he was born. Fire-Fang is as handsome as she remembers him, if not a little more. He has a ruggedness to him that is obtained only by hard times and broken hearts, and it suits his fierce nature. He has never enjoyed his equine form, all the years she spent with him as a family she can remember only a handful of times he chose hooves instead of paws, and it is obvious now as she watches him.
He is cursing and raising hell, and when he calls her name not once, but twice, she can stand it no more. Swallowing hard, she tosses her mane and holds her delicate head high, prepared to have an overdue and certainly confrontational reunion with the male. ”I am here, Fire-Fang, and I didn’t come to desecrate my love’s grave nor be a thorn in your side contrary to your belief.”
The mare had heard him bellowing about his wayward brother, and cursing his vagabond sperm-donor. If only she could find the right words to explain to her child that his sire had abandoned her and their daughter as well, that she understood some of his anger more than he knew. When she is well within striking range she halts. The woman comes with no ill-will, no threats or agitating body language, she comes to her once-son ready for whatever needs to happen next, ready for him.
You’ve come so far, don’t throw it away.
A bittersweet aura surrounded the hopeless wanderer as she made her way casually to the Dragon-King’s once-and-always territory. The trek was lengthy, but welcome. It felt like eons had passed her by since she had departed on her pilgrimage to find her progeny, her journey was like discovering Beqanna all over again. Things had changed, time had passed, but the land was as bountiful and stunning as ever.
Jah-Lilah had said one more final goodbye wrapped in a song and a prayer to her dear departed, then had followed the coastline until it brought her to the mouth of the river. The life-giving fresh water had accompanied her North, it was both her faithful companion and her guide as she traversed through the heart of Beqanna to find Hyaline. The Plains were open and warm, reminding her of the untamed place where she had spent her childhood, it almost filled her with sorrow to leave them behind.
Her malachite eyes witnessed the newcomers pouring into the realm, some filled with excitement and wonder, others timid, seeking a herd and family with the first beast they could so desperately cling to. The wytch can’t help but recall her first day here, and again she finds herself grinning as she weaves her way betwixt the forest and the meadow. When the trees part they reveal a sight for weary eyes, the endless expanse of mountains jutting haphazardly into the sky. They are remarkable but organized chaos, each piece of earth fitting into the next like a puzzle that surely only the Earth-Mother had the answer to. When she finally enter the territory, she is filled to the brim with stimuli, and each new smell and sound awakens her love for this life a little more.
Her Dragon-King has painted the countryside with his scent, and it makes her feel instantly secure here, there is a consistency in her life that he provides that she’s never possessed and never had the desire for until now. Until him. Suddenly she misses her Wolf-of-the-Water again, but fights the urge to flee back to the Beach, back to solitude. Another odor hits her now though, and it causes her to stand up straight and pay attention. Her ears are erect and her eyes scan the place for him, her nostrils flaring and sucking in all the air they can, she’s straining to find the source. My sorceress is desperately looking for Crevan.
He is here, and he is furious. His soul pressure is crushing, all his fire and brimstone is on display, and it is all for her. The red wytch has the inkling that he may take her immortal life today. If that was what the Earth-Mother had planned for her though, what could she do to prevent it? Without warning, voices, not one but two she is incredibly familiar with, reach her ears. Steeling herself for whatever may be ahead, she licks her lips and creeps closer, trying to remain silent as possible so she can focus on locating the stallions. It doesn’t take her long.
There is her rock, solid and stoic, so even-tempered and loving. The scaled desert stallion greets the changeling with the diplomacy and warmth he is known for, and her heart skips a beat. Observing the pain that her colt goes through when the Dragon-King’s nihilism touches him and he is forced into his birth form wounds her, causes her to wince as he wobbles on stilts not unlike the day he was born. Fire-Fang is as handsome as she remembers him, if not a little more. He has a ruggedness to him that is obtained only by hard times and broken hearts, and it suits his fierce nature. He has never enjoyed his equine form, all the years she spent with him as a family she can remember only a handful of times he chose hooves instead of paws, and it is obvious now as she watches him.
He is cursing and raising hell, and when he calls her name not once, but twice, she can stand it no more. Swallowing hard, she tosses her mane and holds her delicate head high, prepared to have an overdue and certainly confrontational reunion with the male. ”I am here, Fire-Fang, and I didn’t come to desecrate my love’s grave nor be a thorn in your side contrary to your belief.”
The mare had heard him bellowing about his wayward brother, and cursing his vagabond sperm-donor. If only she could find the right words to explain to her child that his sire had abandoned her and their daughter as well, that she understood some of his anger more than he knew. When she is well within striking range she halts. The woman comes with no ill-will, no threats or agitating body language, she comes to her once-son ready for whatever needs to happen next, ready for him.
You’ve come so far, don’t throw it away.
I can still hear you saying you would never break the chain
@[Crevan] @[Amet]