05-06-2017, 11:52 AM
Winter wraps her delicate fingers around Beqanna's throat, clutching with pale fingers and dirty nails. Lior ventures from the sanctity of Nerine to reacquaint himself with the secrets nestled snugly against the warm breast of this world. Feathered limbs pull him along as he finds himself comfortable in his equine skin and leathery wings, tangled mop of dread locks gently drumming against the thickness of his neck.
There is a clarity that exists between the shades of gray and white. Any swatch of color is a disruption in the frozen perfection of the forest. Lior can hear the small patter of snowflakes that fall from the swollen sky. He pauses for a moment to peer upward, the strands of his forelock falling to the wayside over a single eye. He breathes it all in deeply, his chest expanding and the heaviness of his wings lifting to stretch outward under the eye of a gray sky.
There is a clarity that exists between the shades of gray and white. Any swatch of color is a disruption in the frozen perfection of the forest. Lior can hear the small patter of snowflakes that fall from the swollen sky. He pauses for a moment to peer upward, the strands of his forelock falling to the wayside over a single eye. He breathes it all in deeply, his chest expanding and the heaviness of his wings lifting to stretch outward under the eye of a gray sky.
I want you to remember