Solanis
06-27-2018, 04:07 PM
this is fact not fiction, should have held them in your lungs.
the words I said are spinning, reeling; your wide-eyed dreams weigh a ton.
the words I said are spinning, reeling; your wide-eyed dreams weigh a ton.
Ears flicker nervously about Taivas's head as the strange, pale mare's voice becomes a soft, delicate cloud.
A mothers gift... do you miss her, lovely? Mother.
For a moment, the dark recesses of the shaman's eyes glimmer with sadness, a mournful feeling of loss she could not quite express on the harder features of her face. Thinking of the family she had left behind in the Fields and how she missed them desperately, the impassive canvas of her face turns slightly blue. Still, this is likely not what the malevolent spirit beside the girl is seeking. After all, the moonlit girl takes no notice that the strange mare had no way of knowing her pale glow was inherited from her mother.
"Yes," a single word flows into the air, but is nearly stampeded by the flurry of words as the strange unicorn remembers that Taivas had asked a question. The tone of the oddly thin mare takes on a whole new shade of black, biting and tempestuous. The shaman continues to try to make small steps to create distance, but her slinky companion takes no notice, drawing nearer and nearer with each word.
Uncomfortably so.
The odd bird renames the Rift as the pretty one, as if refusing the name Taivas gave the realm. The shaman holds further questions, though, as the satchel upon the thin shoulder of her company begins to rustle open. Out of the strange bag, a card, glowing with ephemeral light and malicious energy, slides into the air before her. Taivas studies the cover art of the small object with great interest, though her face remains bored and unimpressed. Within the card, a river begins to be torn asunder.
The darkset eyes of the girl widen in surprise, wondering if the cards detailed an actual event, or just the madness of the lost soul before her. The statement offered after the disturbing cinematic clarifies the thought that the Rift destroyed its own lands. Miin, as the mare calls herself, also makes the connection that the Rift treats its inhabitants much the same way. She asks a question, but Taivas has no clear answer.
"I am not sure," uncertainty comes out in the form of blatant honesty. "Perhaps, she thinks I am weak." Taivas adopts the strange speaking formality of her company, if only to keep that horrid black expression from her face.
A mothers gift... do you miss her, lovely? Mother.
For a moment, the dark recesses of the shaman's eyes glimmer with sadness, a mournful feeling of loss she could not quite express on the harder features of her face. Thinking of the family she had left behind in the Fields and how she missed them desperately, the impassive canvas of her face turns slightly blue. Still, this is likely not what the malevolent spirit beside the girl is seeking. After all, the moonlit girl takes no notice that the strange mare had no way of knowing her pale glow was inherited from her mother.
"Yes," a single word flows into the air, but is nearly stampeded by the flurry of words as the strange unicorn remembers that Taivas had asked a question. The tone of the oddly thin mare takes on a whole new shade of black, biting and tempestuous. The shaman continues to try to make small steps to create distance, but her slinky companion takes no notice, drawing nearer and nearer with each word.
Uncomfortably so.
The odd bird renames the Rift as the pretty one, as if refusing the name Taivas gave the realm. The shaman holds further questions, though, as the satchel upon the thin shoulder of her company begins to rustle open. Out of the strange bag, a card, glowing with ephemeral light and malicious energy, slides into the air before her. Taivas studies the cover art of the small object with great interest, though her face remains bored and unimpressed. Within the card, a river begins to be torn asunder.
The darkset eyes of the girl widen in surprise, wondering if the cards detailed an actual event, or just the madness of the lost soul before her. The statement offered after the disturbing cinematic clarifies the thought that the Rift destroyed its own lands. Miin, as the mare calls herself, also makes the connection that the Rift treats its inhabitants much the same way. She asks a question, but Taivas has no clear answer.
"I am not sure," uncertainty comes out in the form of blatant honesty. "Perhaps, she thinks I am weak." Taivas adopts the strange speaking formality of her company, if only to keep that horrid black expression from her face.
taivas.
