The Rapax was acting strangely.
The current, predictably westbound and generally swift, seemed sluggish and backlogged, as if the ocean were too full to hold any more of the frigid waters of it’s frothing tributary. The waters themselves, even, were different and wrong; dark and thick looking, like tar, like taint. Dulled surface broke and bubbled, hissing as if in response to the abrupt change in pace.
Curling her lip in distaste, Llewelyn gave a customary huff and pulled herself quickly away from the river. Whatever was wrong with it? Taking a step back, the mare studied the waters from what she felt was a safe distance, Aurelian eyes slitted in suspicion. She took a moment to check the hang of her emerald cloak, relieved to find that none of its plush hem had touched the now-rancid Rapax.
Without turning her back on the suddenly unpredictable river, Llewelyn slowly made her way up the shallow bank and back to the even more assured safety of the meadows at the southwesternmost point of Orien’s kingdom. A measured sigh blew from white and pink nostrils as the maiden felt her hooves sink into the lingering blanket of snow that lay heavily upon the slumbering prairie, a hesitant curiosity still present within her mind.
It was then that she turned her attention toward the not so distant shoreline and felt herself gasp at what she beheld there;
Ocean waters blackened and thrashing, beating against Delumine’s shores with a viciousness that made something within the mare quail and shrink with fear. Above the angrily crashing waves was a sky that looked to be painted in blood, though it was quickly growing just as black as the sea that it hovered over. In the distance, somewhere far to the south of her home, Llewelyn could make out violent tridents of lightning slicing at the heavens, and for a moment, she wondered if the gods had returned to wage war upon one another.
“Oriens!” She gasped in horror, not knowing whether her cry was a rebuke or a plea for help. The femme’s leonine tail undulated and lashed in the sudden winds, the once crisp scent of frozen flowers replaced with the rancid scent of sulfur and a foul warmth that wrapped it’s way about the Lady’s frame.
Embers and ash had begun to drift lazily toward the earth, hissing against the surface of the Rapax and peppering the snow with black. Llewelyn’s eyes grew wide with fright and she cast a terrified glance toward the citadel and the security of Somnus’ leadership. She wanted nothing more than to turn tail and gallop back home, back to her honey and rose-scented apartments and the familiar safety that could be found within the pale walls, but she found that she could not move.
For all of her bravado, all of her haughtiness and condescension, Llewelyn had never been faced with fear. Indeed, this was not the fear that accompanied a child through the darkness, not the fright of a broken trinket, or the scare of finding someone just around what was thought to be an empty turn; the terror that the patterned mare felt was something out of a storybook, so pure and all-consuming that she hardly could believe it were real.
And so she stood there, in her finery and her horror, waiting for the world to end.
.... >.> ... can someone come rescue my idiot? It seems to have malfunctioned.
***STAFF EDIT
@llewelyn has rolled a 6! She has been awarded +120 signos
