02-13-2021, 11:14 PM
She gasps the moment the darkness swallows them, wrenched loose from the starlight that she was holding - in her eyes, in her mind, in her heart. It's ripped away so unexpectedly that there's a moment where the starred girl feels bereft of everything and her heart leaps into her throat, threatening to choke her with grief. The soft shine of stars in her cloudy mane does little to ease the sense of loss, nor the warmth of his skin against hers as they plunge into the bitter cold of a night sky beyond the stars, and then into that awful cracked mouth.
She thinks, just for a moment, that it seems to be laughing and her gut churns with something akin to regret, but it is already too late.
Is that her screaming? No, she thinks, her jaws clamped tight together, her teeth gritted against the noise, against the awful vibration that threatens to shake the spots from her skin.
"Oh!" The ground rises up under her feet too fast (she doesn't remember it not being there, actually, but suddenly it's there and her knees start to buckle beneath a strange, unfamiliar gravity.) She tries to focus on the horizon to get her bearings but it shifts and evades her silver gaze. Everything is slightly out of focus and it makes her wince.
The screech makes her cringe.
Shipka has never considered herself particularly brave - inquisitive, yes, but not brave - but she's already taken three steps towards the direction of the screeching when the stallion's voice presses a dark warning against the bright spark of her curiosity. One foreleg hangs frozen in the air.
Foolish.
She looks back at him.
"What if they need help?"
There's no way to know, without going. The noxious land pulses under her feet as if it is alive. Despite all the souls the dead beach of Beqanna has eaten, it has never felt so sentient as this. This beach seems to tip itself forward, makes her hooves long to tumble toward the sharp cries. The oily wind has her heart on a hook, but the tense lines of the champagne stallion's face give her pause. The wind pulls harder.
"We might not be the only ones to come here. They could be trapped."
She thinks, just for a moment, that it seems to be laughing and her gut churns with something akin to regret, but it is already too late.
Is that her screaming? No, she thinks, her jaws clamped tight together, her teeth gritted against the noise, against the awful vibration that threatens to shake the spots from her skin.
"Oh!" The ground rises up under her feet too fast (she doesn't remember it not being there, actually, but suddenly it's there and her knees start to buckle beneath a strange, unfamiliar gravity.) She tries to focus on the horizon to get her bearings but it shifts and evades her silver gaze. Everything is slightly out of focus and it makes her wince.
The screech makes her cringe.
Shipka has never considered herself particularly brave - inquisitive, yes, but not brave - but she's already taken three steps towards the direction of the screeching when the stallion's voice presses a dark warning against the bright spark of her curiosity. One foreleg hangs frozen in the air.
Foolish.
She looks back at him.
"What if they need help?"
There's no way to know, without going. The noxious land pulses under her feet as if it is alive. Despite all the souls the dead beach of Beqanna has eaten, it has never felt so sentient as this. This beach seems to tip itself forward, makes her hooves long to tumble toward the sharp cries. The oily wind has her heart on a hook, but the tense lines of the champagne stallion's face give her pause. The wind pulls harder.
"We might not be the only ones to come here. They could be trapped."
@[Ten] I was going to tag him in the post and then I realized she doesn't even know his name. Shipka makes the best decisions.