Ruined geometry and saturated land, the murk and loamy soil flattened and ridden with algae and kelp: rocks jagged, had become sanded down from tide and the ebb and flow no longer controlled the vast expanse of what was. Wind, instead, swept through and air breathed life anew across the sun-touched remnants of chaos and cataclysm. Trees, rooted or not, shook and their monolithic appearances only seemed to shadow and bring about darkness to the corners formerly untouched; but it was these malignant umbras that suddenly grew swollen and bloated. Their edges fraying and giving way to brush that rattled and shivered.
Her hoofbeats are not light, they impress upon the ground and leave pattern and trail and Yidhra cares little for where she was: only where she goes.
Unnaturally thin and malnourished, her figure is skeletal and sickly- the fur shaggy and areas matted without shine. Beastly, she was little more than the grotesque mannequin of an equine: a husk and shape, but one who paused and turned the head slowly. Dulled eyes barely illuminated and the teal took on an eerie grey-green and swampy nature, their stare heavy and burdened as cough rattled the throat and she wheezed painfully and deep.
“Wander, to and fro.” she spoke, or seemed to be speaking. Her voice a low rasp and smoky tenor, deep and touched by an accent unplaceable. “Where he steps, only he will know.” pause and break, singsong in nature she brought her lips into an easy and mockingly warm smile.
Feign or falsehood, no matter- Yidhra lingered as she was and her head lifted slowly and mechanically without fluidity to her motions. Snapping from place to place there was a corpse-like behavior and a yellowing in the milky-whites of her eyes. That voice continued, and she purred in an unholy manner: turning herself fully and peering over the man with peaked ears and interest.
“I failed to deliver greeting, but, take no offense or grie in such a thing: I am Yidhra- wanderer and observant. Forgive intrusion; but, have you walked this murk long?” the tease is there, the light-hearted chuckle and smile; but underlying illness and famine remain as she shivers from the cold: all skin and bone.
Yidhra
@[Rhonen]
hello fren