05-26-2016, 02:17 PM
All too quickly, the sweet grasses of summer become wilted under winter’s merciless march.
He finds comfort in the cycle of life and death that morphs the land every year. Watching the deer, once fattened on the lush grass of spring, grow slimmer and more flighty in their search for food. Seeing the tall, vivid trees shed their cover and grow dimmer with each passing day. Losing count of the different species of birds because there are fewer to count as the cold begins to creep in and they simultaneously fly out. He enjoys the process in reverse, as well, as spring returns to the Dale. But sometimes, he’s not entirely certain which side of the coin he revels in more.
Light or dark? Life or death?
The conflicted stallion passes by the slowing river with his mind still in a tangle. Most years, he would welcome the silence of snow falling on the slopes. For a while, the absence of both birdsong and the buzz of insects would be like a balm to his overworked senses. But now, he has a family to worry about. Now, his little girl is always at the forefront of his thoughts. She is still too young to fully understand the harsh reality of a Dalean winter. And Ea is much the same, really. Growing up in one of the warmest places in Beqanna will certainly not be a boon for the once-princess now-queen.
His metallic gold gaze spots the two lingering on the horizon. The browning trees behind them are the perfect back-drop to reveal their shared silver points. What a beautiful pair, he thinks to himself, a smile breaking like dawn across his face. And they’re both mine. The ghost-man draws close to mother and daughter, ears swiveling to catch any of the conversation they’d been having before. Sela’s voice is once sound he isn’t sure he could live without; certainly, he would never want to try.
“Ladies,” he says, dropping his head in a deep bow before raising it slightly to Sela’s level. “How are you, my girl? As smart and beautiful as always, I see. And getting bigger every day. That won’t do.” Ram rests his head gently on top of her’s as if he could stop her growth by doing so. He laughs lightly and withdraws. “And how about you, my queen?” There is still a barrier between he and Ea that is entirely of her construction. He’s relinquished all of his tethers when it comes to the silver-dipped mare; he loves her, but it is hard to show affection to a woman of steel. Still, he is willing to try. “How have you taken to the Dale?” He moves in beside her, pressing his shoulder to her’s, careful to keep Sela included in the circle. It isn’t too much, he hopes – he relishes the feel of her skin against his.
He finds comfort in the cycle of life and death that morphs the land every year. Watching the deer, once fattened on the lush grass of spring, grow slimmer and more flighty in their search for food. Seeing the tall, vivid trees shed their cover and grow dimmer with each passing day. Losing count of the different species of birds because there are fewer to count as the cold begins to creep in and they simultaneously fly out. He enjoys the process in reverse, as well, as spring returns to the Dale. But sometimes, he’s not entirely certain which side of the coin he revels in more.
Light or dark? Life or death?
The conflicted stallion passes by the slowing river with his mind still in a tangle. Most years, he would welcome the silence of snow falling on the slopes. For a while, the absence of both birdsong and the buzz of insects would be like a balm to his overworked senses. But now, he has a family to worry about. Now, his little girl is always at the forefront of his thoughts. She is still too young to fully understand the harsh reality of a Dalean winter. And Ea is much the same, really. Growing up in one of the warmest places in Beqanna will certainly not be a boon for the once-princess now-queen.
His metallic gold gaze spots the two lingering on the horizon. The browning trees behind them are the perfect back-drop to reveal their shared silver points. What a beautiful pair, he thinks to himself, a smile breaking like dawn across his face. And they’re both mine. The ghost-man draws close to mother and daughter, ears swiveling to catch any of the conversation they’d been having before. Sela’s voice is once sound he isn’t sure he could live without; certainly, he would never want to try.
“Ladies,” he says, dropping his head in a deep bow before raising it slightly to Sela’s level. “How are you, my girl? As smart and beautiful as always, I see. And getting bigger every day. That won’t do.” Ram rests his head gently on top of her’s as if he could stop her growth by doing so. He laughs lightly and withdraws. “And how about you, my queen?” There is still a barrier between he and Ea that is entirely of her construction. He’s relinquished all of his tethers when it comes to the silver-dipped mare; he loves her, but it is hard to show affection to a woman of steel. Still, he is willing to try. “How have you taken to the Dale?” He moves in beside her, pressing his shoulder to her’s, careful to keep Sela included in the circle. It isn’t too much, he hopes – he relishes the feel of her skin against his.
R A M I E L
this is a man pulling at his iron chains