01-09-2020, 05:06 PM
take my soul & make it undone
be the one, be the one to take me home and show me the sun. i know, i know you can bring the fire, i can bring the bones. i know, i know you'll make the fire, my bones will make it grow.
As Wishbone breaks past the treeline, she thinks about how absolutely uninformed she is. The wall between Life and Death had not allowed her the advantage to watch from the stars as some might think (she did not know of the marriage or divorce of Wolfbane, the sickening lull of Nerine, the burning of Tephra, or any of the politics in between). The faces of Beqanna’s current politics are not the same as they were before, something she is aware of as she begins to mingle with the early-risers in the Meadow.
She chuckles quietly to herself as the darkness of night slowly rises into winter dawn.
Her own face is not the same as it was before.
She is taller, longer, and leaner. Her strides eat at the ground in a way she is still growing used to; the trip from Nerine to the common-lands had taken a shorter amount of time, though the number of times she had tripped over her new legs is slightly embarrassing. Despite her new appearance the same amber eyes of her original body look out from her onyx-and-gold face, scanning the mostly-empty Meadow. Patches of snow remain from a warmer yesterday, though the majority of the field looks rather dead with stringy yellow grass.
It is from one such bundle of grass that a familiar shape rises. Whether the same heart or a new one, Wishbone feels the familiar quickening in her chest at the sight of her old friend (boyfriend? lover? best friend?). She doesn’t wonder whether he will recognize her or not — an explanation and the fire of her personality would probably convince Wolfbane enough. Her lean figure draws close to the gold-and-blue stallion, a smile already working at the edges of her lips.
“Bane,” she says, and her voice is exactly as it had once been — roughened by the smoke of Tephra, laced with the thickness of feminity. Wishbone pauses, oddly unsure of what to say next. There is time in between them, so much time that she can practically feel its thickness lying between them like a slumbering beast. His face looks both the same and different, the structure the same as their childhood but the edges crafted by maturity. A soft sigh leaves her dark nostrils just before Wishbone speaks again. “I don’t know what to say… It’s me, Wishbone.”
She chuckles quietly to herself as the darkness of night slowly rises into winter dawn.
Her own face is not the same as it was before.
She is taller, longer, and leaner. Her strides eat at the ground in a way she is still growing used to; the trip from Nerine to the common-lands had taken a shorter amount of time, though the number of times she had tripped over her new legs is slightly embarrassing. Despite her new appearance the same amber eyes of her original body look out from her onyx-and-gold face, scanning the mostly-empty Meadow. Patches of snow remain from a warmer yesterday, though the majority of the field looks rather dead with stringy yellow grass.
It is from one such bundle of grass that a familiar shape rises. Whether the same heart or a new one, Wishbone feels the familiar quickening in her chest at the sight of her old friend (boyfriend? lover? best friend?). She doesn’t wonder whether he will recognize her or not — an explanation and the fire of her personality would probably convince Wolfbane enough. Her lean figure draws close to the gold-and-blue stallion, a smile already working at the edges of her lips.
“Bane,” she says, and her voice is exactly as it had once been — roughened by the smoke of Tephra, laced with the thickness of feminity. Wishbone pauses, oddly unsure of what to say next. There is time in between them, so much time that she can practically feel its thickness lying between them like a slumbering beast. His face looks both the same and different, the structure the same as their childhood but the edges crafted by maturity. A soft sigh leaves her dark nostrils just before Wishbone speaks again. “I don’t know what to say… It’s me, Wishbone.”
@[Wolfbane]