Rey
I awake to the sounds of low murmuring, feeling a potent sense of uncertain fear when my buttercream eyelids peel gently apart. It’s obvious at first that this isn’t Sylva, the colors are all wrong. No bleeding reds or fiery orange offset by bone-white trunks and boulders. Only a dingy green, murky enough like the bottom side of a pond, and a strangely humid pressure to tell me that at some point during the night I must have wandered into the Forest. “Impossible.” I think, rising on stiff, perlino-tinted forelegs. “Arthas led me to the spot himself, I was sure I’d come to the right place.”
Again, surveying the dimly lit clearing around me makes it painfully evident that I was wrong.
Instead of debating my problems, it’s just easier to let them go and work my rigid muscles loose. It’s warm and a summer breeze that would normally comfort me leaves me shivering, both odd-looking tattoos above my shoulders twitching with the effort. Once they’d been wings, but now the empty weight serves to remind me that nowhere was safe any longer.
Incidentally I step out from hiding and onto a deerpath, squeezing between overgrown holly and out into the open before I catch sight of them. A little ways to my left stands the talkative stranger I’d heard before, red fur dulled by the shadows of the canopy overhead and at his heel, a rather imposing sort of animal. My teeth clench. I swallow loudly.
Caught in mid-step all I can manage is to freeze, my chipped flint eyes motionless and wide.
I suppose I’ve seen worse.
Wanna step to me better think twice, 'cause I look pretty but I ain't that nice
@[Daemron]