The Portal
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Slowly, ever so slowly, the spirits began to sing back in response to Taivas's soul as she traversed the Rift. After escaping from the crack in time which had swallowed her, the shaman had been awash with sensations starkly missing from the linear, black and white void on the borders of reality. Her connection to the spirits had been dampened by her time away, but hearing their familiar pulse soothed her fast beating heart.
Due to the hope of the realm being restored, the girl was once more without a driving motivation or goal for her day. Thus, the shaman adopted her former role of observing the Portal, still known for the sudden and often virulent arrival of newcomers into this twisted realm. Upon a high bough in the canopies of the demented forest, the girl glimmers with soft pallid light amid the falling rain, endless during the Drench.
Time passes slowly, yet in a flash of sudden action and movement, amidst the shroud from the morning sky, a dark figure appears. Had the stallion not been so large, Taivas may have missed him completely.
After a moment to decipher reality from a might-be illusion, the starry eyed maiden lifts easily from the branch she stood upon and glides between branches to land on soft, muddy loam below. The squelch of her hooves is the only noticeable sound for a moment as she turns her painted face, completely dry despite the falling the rain, toward him.
His coloring reminds her somewhat of Waker, being decidedly dark and ominous, but his figure is highlighted in violet instead of cerulean, with eyes of crisp winter ice instead of amber stone. The shaman nods to the decidedly taller stallion, offering him no smile or emotion on her face.
"Hello," she says, her voice even and hushed among the serenade of rainfall softly pattering around them. As always, it does not occur to the girl to offer her name. She notes the smoke billowing from his nostrils with each breath with a cocked ear but no other visible sign of distress. "Are you alright?"
Due to the hope of the realm being restored, the girl was once more without a driving motivation or goal for her day. Thus, the shaman adopted her former role of observing the Portal, still known for the sudden and often virulent arrival of newcomers into this twisted realm. Upon a high bough in the canopies of the demented forest, the girl glimmers with soft pallid light amid the falling rain, endless during the Drench.
Time passes slowly, yet in a flash of sudden action and movement, amidst the shroud from the morning sky, a dark figure appears. Had the stallion not been so large, Taivas may have missed him completely.
After a moment to decipher reality from a might-be illusion, the starry eyed maiden lifts easily from the branch she stood upon and glides between branches to land on soft, muddy loam below. The squelch of her hooves is the only noticeable sound for a moment as she turns her painted face, completely dry despite the falling the rain, toward him.
His coloring reminds her somewhat of Waker, being decidedly dark and ominous, but his figure is highlighted in violet instead of cerulean, with eyes of crisp winter ice instead of amber stone. The shaman nods to the decidedly taller stallion, offering him no smile or emotion on her face.
"Hello," she says, her voice even and hushed among the serenade of rainfall softly pattering around them. As always, it does not occur to the girl to offer her name. She notes the smoke billowing from his nostrils with each breath with a cocked ear but no other visible sign of distress. "Are you alright?"
Do you live for the love you've found?
Some sad slow song to lay you down and still your weary worried heart
Throw light upon your darkest dark
Some sad slow song to lay you down and still your weary worried heart
Throw light upon your darkest dark
