she was powerful not because she wasn't scared,
but because she went on strongly despite her fear.
but because she went on strongly despite her fear.
The grass grew in tussocks and flattened in waves with each gentle gust of wind, only to spring back to an upright position right after the zephyr subsided. It was nothing like the uniform green of the meadows back in her homeland. Each tuft was wild and slightly yellowing under the sun and between each, there was bare soil, baked and powdery. The hill that was a somber wintry green only a fortnight prior had become a garland of the most vibrant blooms. The buds were to grow into beautiful hues; they would be colors to weave dreams from - as delicate and gay as any silk. How they germinated within the loam, blossoming upwards into the sunshine and rain felt akin to magic for the girl, even though the process was well known and understood as otherwise. This was only the third time Maerys had witnessed spring, but with each passing time, she understood more and more the miracle it all was.
As the sun birthed itself over the horizon in the distance, the plants all had a familiar sheen. The dew was silk over the expanse, the first gift to the new day. Even the gold of the daffodils and the rose of the peonies were not exempt from the early-morning moisture. As the temperature steadily rose, the dew would return to the loam or evaporate into the heavens, quenching new spring seed and furthering the thickening clouds overhead. Together with the nascent rays, it was a freshness, a natural wrapping upon the gift of a new day.
Maerys simply bore witness to it all, sedately walking over the blades, the tip of her tail wet from it all. A sense of calmness had overtaken her today, injecting her mind with quietness and composure. There was undeniable calamity in other regions of this fickle world, but she allowed herself this break from it all. She'd seen everything from the random bridge, sentient island, hulking statue, strange notes- she was glad to be back on the mainland. What was one mare to do with all these things she knew nothing about?
Maerys is drawn away from her thoughts by the baritone bellow of a stallion in the distance. She quickly glances at Vradara, her rose and peach mottled dragon who understands immediately what she should do. With a few grand swipes of her leathery wings, Vradara is flying about ten feet above the ground towards the sound. Maerys picks up her pace to a calm canter, her gate sweeping and grand but far from rushed.
Within moments she has found the stallion, daring and vibrant. Slowing to a walk, she approaches with a sense of caution. He was no larger than Maerys in height, but his blatant dense stockiness was not taken lightly. Vradara had already landed besides Maerys and approaches with marginally less caution than the equine, unafraid of the quadruped (her throat had been itching to call forth her fire, she would not hold off on this brute if he tried anything). Maerys had always been kinder, more benevolent, than her counterpart and chose to approach first with ease than violence.
"Mine own name is Maerys," she admits before glancing to the dragon that has settled beside her. "And others call her Vradara," the silver-haired girl offers, dipping her darkened face marginally out of respect for the stranger. "What summons thee to the plains this morn?"
As the sun birthed itself over the horizon in the distance, the plants all had a familiar sheen. The dew was silk over the expanse, the first gift to the new day. Even the gold of the daffodils and the rose of the peonies were not exempt from the early-morning moisture. As the temperature steadily rose, the dew would return to the loam or evaporate into the heavens, quenching new spring seed and furthering the thickening clouds overhead. Together with the nascent rays, it was a freshness, a natural wrapping upon the gift of a new day.
Maerys simply bore witness to it all, sedately walking over the blades, the tip of her tail wet from it all. A sense of calmness had overtaken her today, injecting her mind with quietness and composure. There was undeniable calamity in other regions of this fickle world, but she allowed herself this break from it all. She'd seen everything from the random bridge, sentient island, hulking statue, strange notes- she was glad to be back on the mainland. What was one mare to do with all these things she knew nothing about?
Maerys is drawn away from her thoughts by the baritone bellow of a stallion in the distance. She quickly glances at Vradara, her rose and peach mottled dragon who understands immediately what she should do. With a few grand swipes of her leathery wings, Vradara is flying about ten feet above the ground towards the sound. Maerys picks up her pace to a calm canter, her gate sweeping and grand but far from rushed.
Within moments she has found the stallion, daring and vibrant. Slowing to a walk, she approaches with a sense of caution. He was no larger than Maerys in height, but his blatant dense stockiness was not taken lightly. Vradara had already landed besides Maerys and approaches with marginally less caution than the equine, unafraid of the quadruped (her throat had been itching to call forth her fire, she would not hold off on this brute if he tried anything). Maerys had always been kinder, more benevolent, than her counterpart and chose to approach first with ease than violence.
"Mine own name is Maerys," she admits before glancing to the dragon that has settled beside her. "And others call her Vradara," the silver-haired girl offers, dipping her darkened face marginally out of respect for the stranger. "What summons thee to the plains this morn?"
M A E R Y S
