L Y R A
The world had transformed before her. From the brief kiss of the sun, to the darkness, the night taking claim to the sky – and with it, the risen moon. The mare couldn’t tell who or what she enjoyed more, the warmth of the day-sun or the stillness of the night? The cool touch of silver light, to the harsh and penetrating heat of the sun? A small smile curled her dark lips as she pushed further, onwards to the keep ahead. Even in these dark and trying times for the court she had grown to love deeply for, Lyra still found beauty here. So much more different than the homeland she had been born into, the lands there often decaying with death and war. The very idea of a conflict coming here left her afraid..but not the cowardly afraid as she might have been long ago. No..afraid of the beauty and family she had made here to be forever lost.
But that had been then, in the land without sustenance. Where all beasts, equine alike, fought and clamored for all and everything; like a poison, infecting the very soil with their blood – cursing the earth with dry and unfertile ground. Where brother and kin laid waste to the eternal churning of a doomed world. And that of a world where she had left behind a precious gift, a regret she carried with her for all of her days. She hoped her child was alright wherever her daughter might be.
It brought an uneasy sigh to her lips; too worn, too tired to delve in the past. Despite what information she had been given on her travels, there was an unyielding sense of doom at her back. Lyra was unsure if the feeling would pass, but the sight of her new home eased the anxious stir inside of her chest. The stone of the keep appeared to glow with the moon just ahead, showering the structure with a welcoming aura.
The sight itself was incredibly foreign and magical for the young woman, yet not so since this was her home now. As a child she could only afford mere glimpses into worlds harboring massive columns, smooth stone and archways. Reliant on the song’s archaic tongues riddled behind ancient stories – straining to bear some truth amidst the clumsy changes of each age. Her childish fantasy did not compare to the real thing.
Her bright, silver eyes had not yet found any others in the vicinity. Spurred on by the ethereal sight, for the keep was not only wonderfully crafted; it was alive with lush foliage. Lyra held her breath for a moment as she passed the entrance. The sound of her hooves, cascading from the solid mass of marble – or perhaps some other stone – as she wandered aimlessly into the keep. Her thoughts wandered to the last few days, the gates closing, the court meeting. It was all..very stressful to say the least. A soft sigh left her lips, the court was divided and as champion she felt such pressure to bring it back together. And she didn't know how.
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But that had been then, in the land without sustenance. Where all beasts, equine alike, fought and clamored for all and everything; like a poison, infecting the very soil with their blood – cursing the earth with dry and unfertile ground. Where brother and kin laid waste to the eternal churning of a doomed world. And that of a world where she had left behind a precious gift, a regret she carried with her for all of her days. She hoped her child was alright wherever her daughter might be.
It brought an uneasy sigh to her lips; too worn, too tired to delve in the past. Despite what information she had been given on her travels, there was an unyielding sense of doom at her back. Lyra was unsure if the feeling would pass, but the sight of her new home eased the anxious stir inside of her chest. The stone of the keep appeared to glow with the moon just ahead, showering the structure with a welcoming aura.
The sight itself was incredibly foreign and magical for the young woman, yet not so since this was her home now. As a child she could only afford mere glimpses into worlds harboring massive columns, smooth stone and archways. Reliant on the song’s archaic tongues riddled behind ancient stories – straining to bear some truth amidst the clumsy changes of each age. Her childish fantasy did not compare to the real thing.
Her bright, silver eyes had not yet found any others in the vicinity. Spurred on by the ethereal sight, for the keep was not only wonderfully crafted; it was alive with lush foliage. Lyra held her breath for a moment as she passed the entrance. The sound of her hooves, cascading from the solid mass of marble – or perhaps some other stone – as she wandered aimlessly into the keep. Her thoughts wandered to the last few days, the gates closing, the court meeting. It was all..very stressful to say the least. A soft sigh left her lips, the court was divided and as champion she felt such pressure to bring it back together. And she didn't know how.
ooc tags go here!
