The Portal
Even if the riftian was used to the presence, Erthë was not, and she had none of the composure (or lack of reflexes) that the skull-masked youth seemed to possess. The stabbing spear of shadows had her starting like a frightened bird, already several paces away and feathers a-ruffle and ready to take flight - if it hadn't been so wet, if the feathers hadn't been soaked through and heavier than grief - by the time the first drop of dark blood touched the ground.
and froze.
It was such a curious thing that it gave her pause in the midst of her fright, so much that she forgot to chastise herself for being too tense, too flighty and not at all the suave, balanced and worldly mare she had been in the past. Pale eyes regarded the blood and the wound and the man who had been cut, curiously musing over the similarities between him and her even as her query was answered.
"Yes, they are, aren't they..." she said, not taking her eyes off the blue-eyed stallion. "I couldn't say how long... I saw their tracks when I woke up, the rain had not yet erased them."
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199 words
and froze.
It was such a curious thing that it gave her pause in the midst of her fright, so much that she forgot to chastise herself for being too tense, too flighty and not at all the suave, balanced and worldly mare she had been in the past. Pale eyes regarded the blood and the wound and the man who had been cut, curiously musing over the similarities between him and her even as her query was answered.
"Yes, they are, aren't they..." she said, not taking her eyes off the blue-eyed stallion. "I couldn't say how long... I saw their tracks when I woke up, the rain had not yet erased them."
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199 words
• Magic and violence may always be used against Erthë!
