my blood is a flood of rubies - any

[kota]

She steals away in the dead of night to find solace next to an old friend – to hear the familiar whisper of trickling water over stone, or the rain creeping down the forest’s falling canopy. She follows her heart, the smell of damp moss; feeling the earth soften with pine needles and moisture laden leaf litter as she pads across it like a cat in the moonlight. Her body is mostly a clean bone-white, glassy eyes of blazing blue, like the sky on a cloudless winter’s day. Serrated swaths of black painted oddly over her hide, speckling in some spots and blotching like spilled ink in others. She accented in pink where her fur is thin enough to show her rosy skin (though in this late season no pink but her nose shows). 

Her first child has drained her. A love she’s never felt and all that jazz, but it’s been hell. Not because her wild-eyed daughter is clingy, but because she is so relentlessly curious and unhindered by fear. It was exhausting to keep the child from killing herself for the first few months of her life, and a few times she came close and had to be healed with every ounce of magic she could muster. Now she’s taken to trying to heal herself, which backfires and makes it worse usually. Corva, the daughter, she is only eight or nine months into her life and already she wants to just go. To wander, climb, jump, run, swim – all of it. Kota would much rather her daughter at least grows a bit before throwing herself to the wolves…

Kota’s father, back in Hyaline, has agreed to keep her from death’s door while her mother is away – hopefully the old coot can manage to do so for at least a few hours. This gives her time to run through a sea of dead grasses, under a grinning moon she is only a streak of white in an open meadow. She runs for a spell, making her way back into the forest and toward the River – a place of her childhood. She remembers many a month here, in and out, following her father all around. He mare finds her favorite spot beside a burbling bend in the flowing path of mountain-water. Moss and leaves make a soft bed on the bank, big roots curl all around to braid a barrier encasing a small flattened area perfect for lawling around beside the river.

First she walks into the shallow rapids ankle deep to drink in the sweet, freezing fresh water. She takes mouthful after mouthful, closing her eyes in delight. She becomes lost in it for a moment before snapping her head up to crane over the dip of her back. Water dribbles from her rosy lips, her ears flicking upright; she heard a stick snap and leaves rustling. 

“Hello?”

Kota

those great whites,

they have big teeth

opening this up to everyone for everyone.
pretend the setting is spring ;P

[kota]

this is open to anyone now!
<3 didn't want to see it go so just pretend its the right season xD

will delete this after first reply.

[wound]

Her stay in Tephra has been undoubtedly pleasant so far. Although she has yet to involve herself in the deeper practices of the kingdom (she certainly is not suited for warring, but the idea of peace appeals to her gentle side), she has enjoyed exploring the corners of the island until she feels comfortable at last. Wound didn’t know it before, but growing comfortable in a new place has been a challenge for her.

Wound decided in the early hours of the morning (when the sun’s crest was just beginning to grace the horizon) that she would take a trip to the social areas of Beqanna. Spring extends its arms across the length of the world and although Tephra’s season remains humid and hot, she can sense the newness of life spreading. Wound’s body has not yet adjusted to the constant high temperatures of her new home and she spent most of the days covered in a layer of sweat.

When she had first journeyed to Tephra, the tide had been low. Wound has splashed across the sand bank to reach the shores of the island. She hadn’t realized then how Femur had timed their progression to avoid having to swim. It might’ve seemed like a simple thing — swimming, that is — but Wound’s malformed leg made it drastically different.

She had tried swimming to get across the channel. It had worked for several minutes, though the salty water often splashed into Wound’s nose and burned the cavities of her face. With only three working legs, it wasn’t long before she was exhausted from her clumsy efforts. Thankfully, by the time she was nearly drowning, the tide was low enough that she could barely touch the bottom and hopped along to the shore.

It had taken her most of the day to recover from her swim. Wound’s coat dried in rough, swirling patches in the spring heat, but she was thankful for the cooler temperatures compared to Tephra’s heat. She’d spent some of the evening in the field, watching for any prospects for her new kingdom, but any who seemed promising shied away from her with disgusted looks toward her undeveloped foreleg.

As night falls, Wound resorts herself to spending the night outside Tephra. She seeks out the happy chuckling of the river, wandering along its bending curves. The glow of the spring moon illuminates the rapids, shadowing the depths of the water mysteriously. Despite the threat of the shadows, Wound feels at home among them. The majority of her life has been spent cocooned among the chilly embrace of the darkness, where she could hide from prying eyes and uncomfortable staring.

She hides no longer.

The scent of another mare nearby draws her attention from her thoughts. Wound steps forward from the darkness further down the length of the bank upon the other’s hesitant greeting. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” Wound’s dark mouth slips into a gentle smile. “There aren’t very many who spend their night hours near the river.”

Normally the dangers of the night — predators and darker spirits alike — come to satisfy their thirsts by the coolness of the rapids when the moon rises. Wound had seen them firsthand, when she spent both day and night sheltered by the watchful gazes of her brothers and the security of the darkness.

@[kota]