Her mind is asleep, but her body doesn’t care. Her legs stretch and collect beneath her, the tree limbs pulling at her mane and snapping against her black coat. Somehow, she knows to dart in and out of the trees, she knows to leap over the fallen logs. Her eyes see black, but her mind and body are in overdrive. They keep her from colliding with the obstacles that spread out before her, they guide her through the maze, but her mind still can’t seem to recognize that what she runs from isn’t real. She can feel the hot breath of It along her back, It’s growls seem to vibrate from the ground and into her very core. The air around her smells like sulfur and rot, and while her lungs scream for her to wake up, to stop running, she doesn’t listen. She is in a reckless dash towards the beach, a dead end, and already she is thinking does she drown or does she succumb to whatever hunts her?
The waking is a slow process. With each stride, the tunneled darkness begins to fade away. The crashing waves she had been running towards begin to disappear, towering trees growing in their wake. The relentless snarls wither away, replaced by the sounds of the night. The only breathing is her own, and it comes it sharp and short gasps. There is the familiar burn in her lungs and the ache in her legs, her black coat glistening with sweat.
She stumbles to a stop, her dark eyes darting around as she picks out pieces of reality. Trees. The stars. The wind. She is in the Forest, of Beqanna. She belongs in Hyaline, and she thinks maybe that was where her night had started. She lowers her head, eyelids fluttering over her brown eyes, flanks still heaving as she struggles to catch her breath. She doesn’t usually run this far. The nightmares are getting worse, or she is becoming more fit and able to cover further distances. A shuddering sigh is expelled, opening her eyes once more. She is awake. And through the shadows, the faintest ribbons of moonlight glint off a pair of eyes, and barely she is able to make out the shape of a stranger. ”Hi,” it is a quiet word, issued hesitantly, as though she is unsure if he’s really there, and if he is, does she want him to be?
@[Tunnel]
The waking is a slow process. With each stride, the tunneled darkness begins to fade away. The crashing waves she had been running towards begin to disappear, towering trees growing in their wake. The relentless snarls wither away, replaced by the sounds of the night. The only breathing is her own, and it comes it sharp and short gasps. There is the familiar burn in her lungs and the ache in her legs, her black coat glistening with sweat.
She stumbles to a stop, her dark eyes darting around as she picks out pieces of reality. Trees. The stars. The wind. She is in the Forest, of Beqanna. She belongs in Hyaline, and she thinks maybe that was where her night had started. She lowers her head, eyelids fluttering over her brown eyes, flanks still heaving as she struggles to catch her breath. She doesn’t usually run this far. The nightmares are getting worse, or she is becoming more fit and able to cover further distances. A shuddering sigh is expelled, opening her eyes once more. She is awake. And through the shadows, the faintest ribbons of moonlight glint off a pair of eyes, and barely she is able to make out the shape of a stranger. ”Hi,” it is a quiet word, issued hesitantly, as though she is unsure if he’s really there, and if he is, does she want him to be?
briseis.
you’re ripped at every edge but you’re a masterpiece
you’re ripped at every edge but you’re a masterpiece
@[Tunnel]