04-25-2020, 06:08 PM
oceane
with tremulous cadence slow, and bring
the eternal note of sadness in
the eternal note of sadness in
Most days, Oceane feels blessed to have the ability to comprehend the wildlife around her. The birds of Loess warn her of intruders as they call to each other with sharp beaks, the field mice tell her when the prickly pears have ripened as they satiate their own stomachs with it.
But today, in the River, there is one voice that calls out above all others ─ and it screams only of pain. The opaline woman's blood runs cold at the cry for help but, even from such a distance, she knows there is naught she can do to help the dying creature. All she can do is wait with trembling legs until the cries diminish into a sad, distraught silence. Only then does she proceed closer to the river and its hypnotic babbling. Her flared nostrils smell metallic blood on the air, mixed with the crisp leaves of autumn and the unmistakable musk of a dragon.
She knows it will not be Castile even before her amber eyes alight on the silver beast. The wyvern is thinner than Loess' former ruler, more angular around the joints and jaw,more severe looking. He devours what is left of the deer and Oceane cannot help but watch his mouth with the knowledge that that could just as easily be her. In this moment, she is the deer.
"Leilan," she greets the massive reptile with more confidence than she feels. A small but warm smile graces her lips as she gazes up at the predator, her balefire wings gleaming against the setting sun as she rustles them at her sides. "I had intended a journey to the Isle tomorrow, but it seems you have read my mind." Her amber eyes watch the contours of his face, for any expression that he may exhibit at the sight of her. She considers him a friend ─ a confidant, even, after he had led her son home to the foothills ─ but she is not naive to think that Castile's transgressions against the Isle may not affect what relationship she has with the ice-dragon.
"I hear congratulations are in order."
She knows nothing of what had happened to Jesper ─ and can only hope that Castile's assault against the Isle had not resulted in the former ruler's death ─ but news of a heavy crown changing to a new skull is rarely a thing to go unmentioned through the grapevines of Beqanna.
But today, in the River, there is one voice that calls out above all others ─ and it screams only of pain. The opaline woman's blood runs cold at the cry for help but, even from such a distance, she knows there is naught she can do to help the dying creature. All she can do is wait with trembling legs until the cries diminish into a sad, distraught silence. Only then does she proceed closer to the river and its hypnotic babbling. Her flared nostrils smell metallic blood on the air, mixed with the crisp leaves of autumn and the unmistakable musk of a dragon.
She knows it will not be Castile even before her amber eyes alight on the silver beast. The wyvern is thinner than Loess' former ruler, more angular around the joints and jaw,more severe looking. He devours what is left of the deer and Oceane cannot help but watch his mouth with the knowledge that that could just as easily be her. In this moment, she is the deer.
"Leilan," she greets the massive reptile with more confidence than she feels. A small but warm smile graces her lips as she gazes up at the predator, her balefire wings gleaming against the setting sun as she rustles them at her sides. "I had intended a journey to the Isle tomorrow, but it seems you have read my mind." Her amber eyes watch the contours of his face, for any expression that he may exhibit at the sight of her. She considers him a friend ─ a confidant, even, after he had led her son home to the foothills ─ but she is not naive to think that Castile's transgressions against the Isle may not affect what relationship she has with the ice-dragon.
"I hear congratulations are in order."
She knows nothing of what had happened to Jesper ─ and can only hope that Castile's assault against the Isle had not resulted in the former ruler's death ─ but news of a heavy crown changing to a new skull is rarely a thing to go unmentioned through the grapevines of Beqanna.
"@[Leilan]"
i must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
and all i ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by
and all i ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by