11-04-2019, 01:20 PM
The ring of green is vivid and eye catching amidst the winter snowfall. The flakes fall like tiny ashes on and around the unconscious equine as she lay within the nest of uncharacteristic greenery. The soft pat-pat as the little flakes dizzily drift and settle on the dark lashes of her dreaming head. She sleeps, a soft snore barely caught as her sides heave up with each breath before the low exhale of her breath pushes away the newest fallen flakes, some melting away.
The cold had never really bothered her before but that was before Beqanna had chosen her. It gathers against her pale skin, a shiver creeping up her spine to awake her in a desperate shutter. Dark lashes lift and fall slowly, sleepily, as the small mare wakes slowly from ahead full of memories and clouded dreams. The burn of cold lungs and frozen skin snaps her eyes wide as the sheer ache of her body is enough to think she is dying.
Death is not a concept beyond her reaches. Merewen as existed for centuries in other worlds, death was another turn of time, followed by her imminent rebirth. She bears it all gritted teeth despite knowing it was all a process. Merewen was born a kirin...an omen of peace that (far too often) ultimately was only obtained by her sacrificial death at the hands of others to provide the enlightenment of the ignorant that their squabbles were petty wars that were not worth so much bloodshed.
Her head feels heavy with sluggish wakening but something is not right. Mere lifts her head with a groan as her legs subconsciously gather beneath her to raise up. Slowly...a leg pushes her up but she falters and crumples. The ground is frozen and cold and it sends a ripple of fresh pain through her hoof. Pale eyes drift groggily down and see where her seaglass hooves have been are no longer glass but plain dark hooves. Confusion melts her features as she grows scared and whips her head around...it is too light to move so easily, it moves to fast! The mare lifts her eyes to see that her seaglass antlers are no longer there...
A wail of a cry erupts from her burning throat as she sobs. What trickery has befallen her this time?! With obvious pain where there had never been any before, Merewen raises herself up to her unstable feet. This world hurt her, it ached and froze the tender frogs of her feet. All of her beautiful seaglass scales that laced under her throat to her chest are replaced by thin, pale hair. Merewen can only stand now in the ring of grass, shaking, scared, and feel her body dying in it's very existence.
The cold had never really bothered her before but that was before Beqanna had chosen her. It gathers against her pale skin, a shiver creeping up her spine to awake her in a desperate shutter. Dark lashes lift and fall slowly, sleepily, as the small mare wakes slowly from ahead full of memories and clouded dreams. The burn of cold lungs and frozen skin snaps her eyes wide as the sheer ache of her body is enough to think she is dying.
Death is not a concept beyond her reaches. Merewen as existed for centuries in other worlds, death was another turn of time, followed by her imminent rebirth. She bears it all gritted teeth despite knowing it was all a process. Merewen was born a kirin...an omen of peace that (far too often) ultimately was only obtained by her sacrificial death at the hands of others to provide the enlightenment of the ignorant that their squabbles were petty wars that were not worth so much bloodshed.
Her head feels heavy with sluggish wakening but something is not right. Mere lifts her head with a groan as her legs subconsciously gather beneath her to raise up. Slowly...a leg pushes her up but she falters and crumples. The ground is frozen and cold and it sends a ripple of fresh pain through her hoof. Pale eyes drift groggily down and see where her seaglass hooves have been are no longer glass but plain dark hooves. Confusion melts her features as she grows scared and whips her head around...it is too light to move so easily, it moves to fast! The mare lifts her eyes to see that her seaglass antlers are no longer there...
A wail of a cry erupts from her burning throat as she sobs. What trickery has befallen her this time?! With obvious pain where there had never been any before, Merewen raises herself up to her unstable feet. This world hurt her, it ached and froze the tender frogs of her feet. All of her beautiful seaglass scales that laced under her throat to her chest are replaced by thin, pale hair. Merewen can only stand now in the ring of grass, shaking, scared, and feel her body dying in it's very existence.