06-21-2017, 02:22 AM
isobell
She does not fear what lies beyond the salted rim of Nerine. The salt air tangled the growing length of her young mane, toying and whispering promises of what lay along distance of her home. The kingdom by the sea, ruled by her mother, glittering and strong. The young girl can only fathom the strength that pulsed through corded muscles and thickened blooded veins. Nayl wears the crown with squared shoulders and clamped iron fist. The queen of sea and land. Isobell can only admire the her mother with wild silver eyes, her small mouth tight as she mimics the woman's gestures.
But now the girl is drawn away. Leggy and thin, the black and white yearling is moving with well placed steps, moving like a dandelion fluff on a dying summer's last breath. The grass here was brittle and breaking against the thinness of her rib cage. Her heart pulsates with hot blood as she dares to see the meadow without her brother or mother. They would chastise her later, she is sure, but the beckon of foreign lands makes her throat dry and her pulse race.
Horses mingle together, coming close with bated breathes, their voices in hushed whispers that she can not hear. The girl child is far too young to interpret their actions so she instead avoids the heat of their lustful tongues and chooses a small area in the meadow to simply watch how the crisp air rattles the dry grasses like sun bleached bones.
But now the girl is drawn away. Leggy and thin, the black and white yearling is moving with well placed steps, moving like a dandelion fluff on a dying summer's last breath. The grass here was brittle and breaking against the thinness of her rib cage. Her heart pulsates with hot blood as she dares to see the meadow without her brother or mother. They would chastise her later, she is sure, but the beckon of foreign lands makes her throat dry and her pulse race.
Horses mingle together, coming close with bated breathes, their voices in hushed whispers that she can not hear. The girl child is far too young to interpret their actions so she instead avoids the heat of their lustful tongues and chooses a small area in the meadow to simply watch how the crisp air rattles the dry grasses like sun bleached bones.
i'll wait for you at the bottom of the deep blue sea