Typical.
The sun beat down on her spine, burning red-hot against her shoulders and back; Seraphina had learned how to remain as comfortable as possible whilst soaked in the perpetual sweat and sand that came with living in the middle of a relentless and viciously temperamental desert, seeking out shade beneath the dunes while wandering the Mors and the rare overhangs and shrubbery while stalking the Elatus. She had opted to remain close to the walls that lined the far side of the maze-like canyons for the duration of her patrol today, if only because the heat seemed even worse than usual – even so, she found herself dipping in and out of spindly, jagged patches of shade and sun, never comfortable for very long. It was so dry and rasping that she felt as though her tongue was swelling in her mouth, the sort of heat that scraped the insides of her lungs whenever she breathed. She wished, rather desperately, that she had chosen the Elatus for her morning patrol and saved the Vitae for noon, longing for the shade and cool water that the oasis provided – but here she was, bored and soaking in unpleasantness. (Or simply sweat.)
As she rounded the next bend, weaving through a sharp dip in the canyon’s width, she felt a dull humming in her bones – brow furrowed and eyes narrowed, she glanced around for the source. (She would run into some sort of weird magic today, wouldn’t she? A sudden thunderstorm? Heat lightning?) Her gaze came to a standstill towards the top of the canyon wall. A patch of stone seemed to be pulsing, quivering with nervous energy, warping and shattering the canyon wall. Drawing her lips into a firm line, she edged back into the relative safety of the narrow patch from which she’d emerged, muscles tensed as she readied herself to run at the first sign of danger. Rather abruptly, the quivering segment splintered, spitting stones and violent, blinding light from its rim – bright as the sun – out in its immediate vicinity; she shied away from the paradoxical fissure, practically crouching up against the canyon wall, frozen in a sort of existential fear but far too intrigued by this evident break in reality to tear her eyes from it.
The fissure closed as quickly as it had opened, though not before throwing out a mass of violet and cream that it took her a moment to recognize as another horse. He skidded to a landing that was at best unkempt, sending thick clouds of sand and dust up in his wake; she winced instinctively as he made contact with solid ground, gritting her own teeth in imagined – or understood – pain. She wondered, for a moment, if the stallion was even alive, but she soon caught sight of the heave of his chest and the twitch of movement in his neck. Seraphina jerked out of sight before he could see her, throat clamping up and usual courage dissipating with a sudden influx of nerves. What in Solis’s name had she just witnessed? If that rift was as dangerous as it looked, what did that say of a creature that came tumbling out of it? (And that wasn’t even accounting for how massive and threatening he looked.) Shell-shocked and rigid, she stood in the shadow of canyon walls, limbs completely frozen. Should she run? Should she investigate? It was her job, after all, to investigate anything unusual.
Seraphina finally let out a ghost of a sigh, peering around the bend to stare the stallion down again; he was standing, now, though facing the opposite direction. He was even more intimidating now that she could make out the whole of him, distinctly muscular and so tall that she’d practically call him excessive; she rarely felt intimidated by a potential opponent strictly based on their stature, but, looking him over, she was left with the distinct impression that, should they come to blows for some reason or another, she might very well find herself in a fight that she couldn’t win. A set of violet horns that almost reminded her of fins sprouted from just behind his violet ears, and his creamy mane and tail were kept in a mixture of warlike choppiness and unkempt braids. (The feathering about his massive hooves, however, seemed to have no rhyme or reason.) His coloration, though obscured by sand, was primarily cream, but she spotted a bit of various shades of purple – largely around his hind legs, though she thought that she could make out the occasional spot of it across the rest of his frame. He was facing in the opposite direction, so, if there was anything unique to the front of him, Seraphina could not make it out; she thought that she remembered seeing something spiny on his chest, and the flash of virulent red on his forehead, but she hadn’t the time to take a closer look. She sucked in a breath and stepped out into plain sight, muscles still tensed to run back in the direction from which she’d come should things turn sour – for all she knew, he couldn’t even fit through the opening in the walls.
Seraphina cleared her throat, eyeing the gargantuan stallion with thinly-veiled suspicion. “Are you…unharmed? That looked like quite a fall.” She ventured reluctantly, mismatched eyes scanning his frame for any wounds in his sand-caked coat.
@Torstein - the worst welcoming party has arrived
The sun beat down on her spine, burning red-hot against her shoulders and back; Seraphina had learned how to remain as comfortable as possible whilst soaked in the perpetual sweat and sand that came with living in the middle of a relentless and viciously temperamental desert, seeking out shade beneath the dunes while wandering the Mors and the rare overhangs and shrubbery while stalking the Elatus. She had opted to remain close to the walls that lined the far side of the maze-like canyons for the duration of her patrol today, if only because the heat seemed even worse than usual – even so, she found herself dipping in and out of spindly, jagged patches of shade and sun, never comfortable for very long. It was so dry and rasping that she felt as though her tongue was swelling in her mouth, the sort of heat that scraped the insides of her lungs whenever she breathed. She wished, rather desperately, that she had chosen the Elatus for her morning patrol and saved the Vitae for noon, longing for the shade and cool water that the oasis provided – but here she was, bored and soaking in unpleasantness. (Or simply sweat.)
As she rounded the next bend, weaving through a sharp dip in the canyon’s width, she felt a dull humming in her bones – brow furrowed and eyes narrowed, she glanced around for the source. (She would run into some sort of weird magic today, wouldn’t she? A sudden thunderstorm? Heat lightning?) Her gaze came to a standstill towards the top of the canyon wall. A patch of stone seemed to be pulsing, quivering with nervous energy, warping and shattering the canyon wall. Drawing her lips into a firm line, she edged back into the relative safety of the narrow patch from which she’d emerged, muscles tensed as she readied herself to run at the first sign of danger. Rather abruptly, the quivering segment splintered, spitting stones and violent, blinding light from its rim – bright as the sun – out in its immediate vicinity; she shied away from the paradoxical fissure, practically crouching up against the canyon wall, frozen in a sort of existential fear but far too intrigued by this evident break in reality to tear her eyes from it.
The fissure closed as quickly as it had opened, though not before throwing out a mass of violet and cream that it took her a moment to recognize as another horse. He skidded to a landing that was at best unkempt, sending thick clouds of sand and dust up in his wake; she winced instinctively as he made contact with solid ground, gritting her own teeth in imagined – or understood – pain. She wondered, for a moment, if the stallion was even alive, but she soon caught sight of the heave of his chest and the twitch of movement in his neck. Seraphina jerked out of sight before he could see her, throat clamping up and usual courage dissipating with a sudden influx of nerves. What in Solis’s name had she just witnessed? If that rift was as dangerous as it looked, what did that say of a creature that came tumbling out of it? (And that wasn’t even accounting for how massive and threatening he looked.) Shell-shocked and rigid, she stood in the shadow of canyon walls, limbs completely frozen. Should she run? Should she investigate? It was her job, after all, to investigate anything unusual.
Seraphina finally let out a ghost of a sigh, peering around the bend to stare the stallion down again; he was standing, now, though facing the opposite direction. He was even more intimidating now that she could make out the whole of him, distinctly muscular and so tall that she’d practically call him excessive; she rarely felt intimidated by a potential opponent strictly based on their stature, but, looking him over, she was left with the distinct impression that, should they come to blows for some reason or another, she might very well find herself in a fight that she couldn’t win. A set of violet horns that almost reminded her of fins sprouted from just behind his violet ears, and his creamy mane and tail were kept in a mixture of warlike choppiness and unkempt braids. (The feathering about his massive hooves, however, seemed to have no rhyme or reason.) His coloration, though obscured by sand, was primarily cream, but she spotted a bit of various shades of purple – largely around his hind legs, though she thought that she could make out the occasional spot of it across the rest of his frame. He was facing in the opposite direction, so, if there was anything unique to the front of him, Seraphina could not make it out; she thought that she remembered seeing something spiny on his chest, and the flash of virulent red on his forehead, but she hadn’t the time to take a closer look. She sucked in a breath and stepped out into plain sight, muscles still tensed to run back in the direction from which she’d come should things turn sour – for all she knew, he couldn’t even fit through the opening in the walls.
Seraphina cleared her throat, eyeing the gargantuan stallion with thinly-veiled suspicion. “Are you…unharmed? That looked like quite a fall.” She ventured reluctantly, mismatched eyes scanning his frame for any wounds in his sand-caked coat.
@Torstein - the worst welcoming party has arrived
I'M IN A ROOM MADE OUT OF MIRRORSand there's no way to escape the violence of a girl against herself.☼please tag Sera! contact is encouraged, short of violence
