11-09-2020, 09:08 PM
a little white light in a
sea gone black
sea gone black
≋
“Thank you,” she offers as her molten amber eyes turn to look at the rabicano stallion beside her. He hadn't known anything about her when he'd offered to help that day in the Field - and now here he is, in Loess, just as he said he would be. Oceane is curious of his past, of course, but he has proven himself selfless and reliable in the short time she has known him. “I will need all of the help I can get right now, Finian.”
She pauses, and then takes a chance by confiding in him something she had yet to share with even Soran - “Especially now. Tarian, the man I was going to name Loess' Champion, has been stolen away from us and I can only hazard a guess that it was Pangea.” She sighs, more exasperated than anything else. Barbs aimed in the foothills' direction by the demons of the wasteland are nothing new. “Though my only proof is our unpleasant history.”
She chews at the inside of her cheek as they gaze out over the hot springs and the steam that rises up from them. All around them, winter has claimed the land and hidden the remaining destruction of last year's inferno. But never the springs; they are unchanging, and their stability is what she needs now.
“Tell me about yourself, Finian,” she requests quietly as she flicks an ear in his direction, hoping to gently set aside the troubles she harbors, if only for a short while.
She pauses, and then takes a chance by confiding in him something she had yet to share with even Soran - “Especially now. Tarian, the man I was going to name Loess' Champion, has been stolen away from us and I can only hazard a guess that it was Pangea.” She sighs, more exasperated than anything else. Barbs aimed in the foothills' direction by the demons of the wasteland are nothing new. “Though my only proof is our unpleasant history.”
She chews at the inside of her cheek as they gaze out over the hot springs and the steam that rises up from them. All around them, winter has claimed the land and hidden the remaining destruction of last year's inferno. But never the springs; they are unchanging, and their stability is what she needs now.
“Tell me about yourself, Finian,” she requests quietly as she flicks an ear in his direction, hoping to gently set aside the troubles she harbors, if only for a short while.
@[Finian]
“”
“”
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