Rainforest Cliffs
07-24-2017, 03:17 PM
She should see him coming. She should be aware, should care, should be paying bloody attention. There are so many eyes in the trees here though, so many reasons to not give two shits about what’s around the corner that she just doesn’t. It’s unlike her, a trained fighter, to simply let things plow into her, but she does. What would she even fight for, here? She doesn’t know their gods and doesn’t care for them. She doesn’t want to make this place home, and right now, it certainly doesn’t feel like it. Weaver has lived her life in mountains and valleys, calling no other places home though she’s traveled through all manner of landscapes and worlds. There were no mountains or valleys here that she has been able to find yet, and she cannot fathom living her life confined to these five ruined lands.
She keeps wondering what might happen if she leaves this place, heads back through the Portal. Would it dump her out into the blackness of Helovia, or did it lead to any place someone might imagine? Could she send herself to her childhood home, back to the Chamber? Not that she really wants to go back there either, but still, it might be better. Though no, it wouldn’t, because there was no one there she cared about. Here, though she’d be loath to admit it, there were quite a number of horses she cared too much about to simply leave. So instead of leaving, she’s stayed put, losing herself to this place a little more every day.
The stranger that bumps into her doesn’t look like a Riftian, but a rather young colt from Helovia (though she could be wrong, it’s not like she’s met that many Rifitians to know if they were all crazy looking). He says nothing, just stares at her, and it brings a laugh to her lips. The sound of it is so out of place beneath the rain and the misery that lays heavily around them, but it hangs in the air between them anyway. She’s not even sure what’s so funny, except that it is definitely funny.
The colt looks a whole lot like Volterra, actually. She recalls their battle now, and a bit of a grin creeps onto her lips at the thought of it. Perhaps they are related, perhaps not, but the smile is enough to break her bad mood. “Oof to you too,” she says, pretending to be insulted though it’s clear by the playful look on her face she really doesn’t care. It’s her own damn fault she wasn’t paying attention. “Helovian?” she asks, making sure her assumption is right.
She keeps wondering what might happen if she leaves this place, heads back through the Portal. Would it dump her out into the blackness of Helovia, or did it lead to any place someone might imagine? Could she send herself to her childhood home, back to the Chamber? Not that she really wants to go back there either, but still, it might be better. Though no, it wouldn’t, because there was no one there she cared about. Here, though she’d be loath to admit it, there were quite a number of horses she cared too much about to simply leave. So instead of leaving, she’s stayed put, losing herself to this place a little more every day.
The stranger that bumps into her doesn’t look like a Riftian, but a rather young colt from Helovia (though she could be wrong, it’s not like she’s met that many Rifitians to know if they were all crazy looking). He says nothing, just stares at her, and it brings a laugh to her lips. The sound of it is so out of place beneath the rain and the misery that lays heavily around them, but it hangs in the air between them anyway. She’s not even sure what’s so funny, except that it is definitely funny.
The colt looks a whole lot like Volterra, actually. She recalls their battle now, and a bit of a grin creeps onto her lips at the thought of it. Perhaps they are related, perhaps not, but the smile is enough to break her bad mood. “Oof to you too,” she says, pretending to be insulted though it’s clear by the playful look on her face she really doesn’t care. It’s her own damn fault she wasn’t paying attention. “Helovian?” she asks, making sure her assumption is right.
- weaver -
@Vulkán okay by me!
