hold high in the lowlands; woolf

[Kora]

His approach sends reverberations through the earth, his footfalls like the beat of a drum, though the slog of mud and snow dulls the sound that causes delicate ears to twitch, a glowing gaze to turn. Her chin tilts upward so that she might watch his coming. Small and slender in stature, perhaps she would look even slighter in comparison to his rather imposing presence – but she does not balk at his advance as she might once have done. Instead, she remains curiously still; waiting. Butterfly-heart no longer. Abstractedly, she makes note of the masculinity that emanates from his every move, and at the rumbling of his voice, a silvery laugh escapes her. “It wasn’t the land.” Her own voice is whisper-soft, laced with something that might pass for amusement. “It was the ocean.” She feels his emerald eyes on her. Surely the weight of his stare should cause her some discomfort – but no – she was done with should, remember? A blue-tinged tail flicks about slender hocks, and a sudden wintry gust of air brushes coolly through the tangle of his mane. Snowflakes materialize from the darkness to encircle his barrel, creating a garland of white that twines about the bluish-red of him for some seconds before falling limply to churned ground. In the fast-fading moonlight, the miniscule crystals glisten wetly upon the earth underfoot. “What a funny phrase,” she muses, her lips curving absently at the thought as she looks him over with faintly returned interest. “I can’t quite decide what it was that spit you out, though.” kora vanished winterchild of riagan and rayelle

@[woolf]