08-03-2016, 03:38 PM
Estela knows she isn’t alone. The meadow is too full, too alive, to ever grant her solitude. There are many that stay awake beyond the setting sun. An entirely different world reigns when the moon ascends its nightly throne. It’s exhilarating and hypnotic, eerie and alluring all at once. Like many others Estela thrives in the cool temperatures that the nightfall brings, but it also cloaks her and makes her less of a spectacle. It’s funny how she loves the darkness but controls the light.
The faint crack of a twig draws her from her thoughts.
She was watching those in front of her, but nothing behind or next to her. With mild amusement Estela allows the stranger to edge closer and to remove the distance separating them. There is no reason to fear or to shy from any conversation; of them Estela is the more fearsome, the deadlier (but she doesn’t say this aloud). A long, drawn out breath expels into the cool night before she finally turns her head to look at him. The way his voice caresses her ears ignites a deep curiosity in her, but then she laughs it away. ”That’s a first,” never has she been regarded as pretty; she’s a monster much like her siblings. They are all cursed in some way. It’s the touch of their grandfather. The strength of his genetics has bled into them to create a lasting legacy.
”You’re bold to make an entrance like that,” her porcelain tail sweeps across her sides although there are no bugs pestering her. There are only the lightning bugs hovering above and the crickets chirping below, but she doesn’t acknowledge them anymore. Her attention has funneled onto the stallion. ”With how scrawny you are I feel like I could eat you,” he would be a bony meal, but considering she isn’t carnivorous it doesn’t exactly matter. Having blunt, normal teeth inhibits her; her weaponry is for ripping in other ways. In that moment she glances down to where hooves should be and quietly admires her claws before looking up at him again. ”Is that how you always announce your arrival?” There is a sharpness in her tone meddled with an ounce of humor.
The faint crack of a twig draws her from her thoughts.
She was watching those in front of her, but nothing behind or next to her. With mild amusement Estela allows the stranger to edge closer and to remove the distance separating them. There is no reason to fear or to shy from any conversation; of them Estela is the more fearsome, the deadlier (but she doesn’t say this aloud). A long, drawn out breath expels into the cool night before she finally turns her head to look at him. The way his voice caresses her ears ignites a deep curiosity in her, but then she laughs it away. ”That’s a first,” never has she been regarded as pretty; she’s a monster much like her siblings. They are all cursed in some way. It’s the touch of their grandfather. The strength of his genetics has bled into them to create a lasting legacy.
”You’re bold to make an entrance like that,” her porcelain tail sweeps across her sides although there are no bugs pestering her. There are only the lightning bugs hovering above and the crickets chirping below, but she doesn’t acknowledge them anymore. Her attention has funneled onto the stallion. ”With how scrawny you are I feel like I could eat you,” he would be a bony meal, but considering she isn’t carnivorous it doesn’t exactly matter. Having blunt, normal teeth inhibits her; her weaponry is for ripping in other ways. In that moment she glances down to where hooves should be and quietly admires her claws before looking up at him again. ”Is that how you always announce your arrival?” There is a sharpness in her tone meddled with an ounce of humor.
Estela
lies are dripping off your face