03-18-2018, 07:09 PM
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W ound can’t deny she enjoys spring. Although the temperature change on Tephra is minuscule, she feels rejuvenated as winter pulls away into the shadows. There had been many years of her life spent in that darkness — swirling among the crooked trees and hidden forests. Her brothers, ever protective and careful, urged her to remain in the corners of Beqanna that few travel. It wasn’t until a couple of years ago that Wound fully stepped into the light.She hasn’t looked back since then. Now she can feel the sun on her shoulders as she stands on the beachfront. With Tephra being an island, there is no direction she cannot go where she will not run into water. The ocean stretches before her, reflective in the pale blue of the sky above, but she can see a hint of Beqanna’s shoreline out of the corner of her right eye. The silvery mare inhales a slow, cleansing breath. The sting of salty air floods her nostrils, but she is well-used to it by now. The scents of her childhood were those of decomposition and dark forests and wet, thick leaves. But the scents of her life now (a life she treasures dearly) are those of smoke and salt and deliciously warm sunlight. Wound closes her eyes for a moment, reflecting on how far she’s come, while the sun heats her shoulders and the ocean laps at her ankles. |
credit to nat of adoxography.
@[Amorette]