there's no going back
when you cross the line
when you cross the line
He isn’t quite sure what to make of the strange new place.
His hooves hesitate over fallen, rotting petals and click against strewn pearls, tap tap, tap tap, anxious and distrustful of whatever strange magic seems to be gripping this new island -- it seems to him to be overly beautiful, too much too soon, and he can feel his skin crawling whenever he turns his gaze upon the constellation-flowers and the clear water that beckons him forward.
Despite his reservations, he steps down off the bridge, onto the white sand, and his ears lay back against his head with a soft rattle of the attached chain. Around him, cerulean crustaceans scuttle from one burrow to the next as though they might be held to a schedule, pushed and pulled by the strange tides, and as he follows them he only grows more uneasy.
A glint catches his eyes, the crashing of a wave upon the shore, and he turns his head to find himself staring down a strange stone in the water.
Cautiously, he approaches.
“I’m not sure it’s an egg,” He says softly to the filly nosing at it -- but how would he know?
@Anemone @Random Events
