Morning Star || ANY (Jackel)

[Lavendel]

(OOC : made a whole bad ass HTML and then my laptop crashed. Anywho old friends and new feel free to join Lamb on this freaky journey of memory loss and new life)

      Starlight drips like honey off of sticks in the night sky. Moonlight hangs heavy over the forest below and the thick autumn air barely perforates the sea of emerald green. If one were to sail over the treetops at a high enough elevation they may observe the ever brightening amber orb deep in the forest. To see it up close would be rather breathtaking. Tangerine flames would lick at their feet and cover the foliage beneath in bright oranges and tinted scarlet. Ash would blow like snow through the untouched pine and land on foal’s noses in a gentle whisper. To observe closely enough would reveal the blanketed figure of an equine engulfed in the flame though seemingly unbothered. And then as quickly as the observer would spot the rarity the flames would extinguish with a loud and demanding hush. The ash dissipates and falls onto the figure below, covering the woman like a thin layer of lace. 

    The stars twinkle above and the moon hangs heavy over the wood as life below stops only for a brief moment before picking up once more. And when the sleeping beauty awakens in the morn she will have no recollection of herself or the life that she had led before the great flame engulfed her. 

Moss has grown thickly around where she lay, as though the splashed maiden has not left her place of repose in quite some time.  A terrible dryness has encased her slender throat and left the wraith incapable of speech. Deep in her womb she feels an emptiness that shakes her bodice in small tremors. She can not recall if there had been something there before or not, though something implores her to forget the thought and not dwindle on it any longer. 

 Pastel pink and purple rays of morning sun push gently past the layers of pine needles above and caress her ashen face with soft hands. Turning her pale face to the sky the mare closes her eyes and takes in deep lungfuls of ashy autumnal air. Her body breathes life as her bones creak and groan in protest to the movement required to stand. Leaves and dust long undisturbed fall in quiet waves off of her back and land silently upon the dark earth floor. Once perfectly kept ivory tendrils have grown long into curling masses of sticks and grass that weave into her mane in matted clumps. If she had any memory she would chuckle at the thought of those sticks once being flowers. 

  But that would have been if she remembered. In the place of flowers and laughter is a barren plain, one tinged in dull colors that a time ago could have twisted themselves into memories. Had she (or anyone else) looked close enough (and for a long time) they would see the faintest of lines like mapped roads across her torso. Long forgotten moments of her ancient past. It would be a long time before she found those however, now all she saw was the gentle shine of the morning star filtering through her inky lashes.