Waking from what feels like such a long slumber is quite difficult indeed for the young smoky-coated mare.
Once again, she has fallen victim to the passage of time – or, she has been preserved outside of it, just like in her youth. The world she looks out upon as she emerges from deep within the forest is different. The air feels thinner, no longer perfumed by the heavy smoke of volcanoes, far less salty than before.
The realization that she has once again been folded away somewhere safe during her absence strikes her like a bolt. Her family, were they even still around, would not be likely to remember her now. She's been gone far too long.
Volcan stands at the riverbank, alone. She lowers her head and sighs, grappling to accept her terrible luck*.
Stirred by her breath, a small patch of clover* seems to shift, the shamrock* shoots dancing slightly as something emerges from them. Opening her eyes of green* she watches as the small fairy emerges. The little creature exudes a lovely, soft light of gold* as it peers up at her.
For a brief moment they stare at one another. Volcan wonders if this were a new fixture of Beqanna as well, some common sight that she'd missed out on. She shifts a little closer, her coat glittering with a faint touch of reddish-gold thanks to the sands she still telekinetically carries buried in her fur (the last distant reminder of her home in the Deserts).
The fairy makes an odd little chirp before it flits closer to her, hesitantly touching her muzzle before it flits away with a strange sort of laughter. It leaves a trail of rainbow*-colored sparkles in its wake – quite a sight to behold. It bounds along the edges of the river before the mare loses sight of it, head now raised and tilted in meager curiosity.
What an unexpectedly brilliant little encounter. She muses upon it for a moment more before, with a soft shake of her mane, she returns to grazing on the riverbank.
Once again, she has fallen victim to the passage of time – or, she has been preserved outside of it, just like in her youth. The world she looks out upon as she emerges from deep within the forest is different. The air feels thinner, no longer perfumed by the heavy smoke of volcanoes, far less salty than before.
The realization that she has once again been folded away somewhere safe during her absence strikes her like a bolt. Her family, were they even still around, would not be likely to remember her now. She's been gone far too long.
Volcan stands at the riverbank, alone. She lowers her head and sighs, grappling to accept her terrible luck*.
Stirred by her breath, a small patch of clover* seems to shift, the shamrock* shoots dancing slightly as something emerges from them. Opening her eyes of green* she watches as the small fairy emerges. The little creature exudes a lovely, soft light of gold* as it peers up at her.
For a brief moment they stare at one another. Volcan wonders if this were a new fixture of Beqanna as well, some common sight that she'd missed out on. She shifts a little closer, her coat glittering with a faint touch of reddish-gold thanks to the sands she still telekinetically carries buried in her fur (the last distant reminder of her home in the Deserts).
The fairy makes an odd little chirp before it flits closer to her, hesitantly touching her muzzle before it flits away with a strange sort of laughter. It leaves a trail of rainbow*-colored sparkles in its wake – quite a sight to behold. It bounds along the edges of the river before the mare loses sight of it, head now raised and tilted in meager curiosity.
What an unexpectedly brilliant little encounter. She muses upon it for a moment more before, with a soft shake of her mane, she returns to grazing on the riverbank.