Uwaritace
11-07-2017, 12:43 AM
If you'll be my star, I'll be your sky
You can hide underneath me and come out at night
You can hide underneath me and come out at night
I'm lost.
Taivas smiles knowingly, though the expression on her face is not one of joy. Her eyes are hollow, the emotion never reaching her heart. A smile of painful irony. After all, she too is lost.
The mention of the "beastie" causes the girl to stop and look around. The whole act is quite pointless, as the fog is thick and dense. The only true landmark visible is the corpse of the great tree and her broken spirit. A primal feeling of fear still lingers, which had become natural to them are since arriving in the Rift. The land itself could have been beautiful once, but the scars upon its earth screamed of the horrors it face. A poison, a deep sickness crept from the frozen soil until it could be felt just about anywhere.
Except here, oddly enough.
The Fields were one of several clans back home, so she had never directly studied the spirits in the forest. The Woods and their people, however, cared for the trees and the creatures within their realm. They sang for spirits of each tree, and since arriving here, Taivas began to understand why. Even though the tree hand been mangled by fire and rotting for centuries, possibly, the feeling of a living soul remained. The same ill feeling that she had in the Portal did not find its way here, for whatever reason. Instead of feeling sick, she just felt melancholy.
The expression on the little filly's face reflected that dolefulness, and the mare may have attempted to console the pitiful thing, were it not for the spunky tone that lashed out next.
Taivas is confused, for she did not whisper a thing, nor had she heard a sound except for the young girl's squeal of fear. The fog sat like a blanket upon them, hushing their voices, their hoof beats and likely any noise another visitor may have made. "It was not me," the starry eyed maiden says plainly. There is no indignation at the accusation, no attempt to flatter the girl into believing her, no balking at her claim of hearing a whisper in this silent realm.
For a moment, the painted girl considers offering to help the filly look for her father, but, being new to the realm, her offer would be worthless. Instead, she offers awkwardly quiet company... just what every frightened filly needs.
""
Taivas smiles knowingly, though the expression on her face is not one of joy. Her eyes are hollow, the emotion never reaching her heart. A smile of painful irony. After all, she too is lost.
The mention of the "beastie" causes the girl to stop and look around. The whole act is quite pointless, as the fog is thick and dense. The only true landmark visible is the corpse of the great tree and her broken spirit. A primal feeling of fear still lingers, which had become natural to them are since arriving in the Rift. The land itself could have been beautiful once, but the scars upon its earth screamed of the horrors it face. A poison, a deep sickness crept from the frozen soil until it could be felt just about anywhere.
Except here, oddly enough.
The Fields were one of several clans back home, so she had never directly studied the spirits in the forest. The Woods and their people, however, cared for the trees and the creatures within their realm. They sang for spirits of each tree, and since arriving here, Taivas began to understand why. Even though the tree hand been mangled by fire and rotting for centuries, possibly, the feeling of a living soul remained. The same ill feeling that she had in the Portal did not find its way here, for whatever reason. Instead of feeling sick, she just felt melancholy.
The expression on the little filly's face reflected that dolefulness, and the mare may have attempted to console the pitiful thing, were it not for the spunky tone that lashed out next.
Taivas is confused, for she did not whisper a thing, nor had she heard a sound except for the young girl's squeal of fear. The fog sat like a blanket upon them, hushing their voices, their hoof beats and likely any noise another visitor may have made. "It was not me," the starry eyed maiden says plainly. There is no indignation at the accusation, no attempt to flatter the girl into believing her, no balking at her claim of hearing a whisper in this silent realm.
For a moment, the painted girl considers offering to help the filly look for her father, but, being new to the realm, her offer would be worthless. Instead, she offers awkwardly quiet company... just what every frightened filly needs.
""
When I turn jet black, and you show off your light
I live to let you shine
I live to let you shine
Taivas
