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.
Maerys passed unobtrusively within the jungle, Vradara trudging alongside her. Every step is delicate against the moistened loam and leaflets that litter the area. There is viscous moisture that plagues the air, attended by the drone of beetles and the gentle trickle of rainwater. Though in times prior this novel realm appeared to be experiencing a wholly distinct season than the rest of Novus, now it welcomed warmness and bloom very much as springtime does. This rainfall, notably removed from dismal, deepens the hues of the jungle around her, adding a lush richness to the scene. The girl finds particular joy in the rain that soothes her heart and steadies her soul.
The path she explores goes on for miles before it winds into a different direction or before there is a fork in it which calls for a choice, as if the path was made for something that could move longer distances in a shorter time. For this reason, when a thick river comes into view, Maerys eyes it with curious felicity. The water is green, darker in the shadows and more pale in the light, but still undeniably green. For all its serenity, there is more danger in its swirling depths than the trees behind (especially on this island). Stepping forward carefully, her lips drop to the cool water and she indulges in the refreshing liquid, her front hooves on the edge of submersion.
Maerys and Vradara are considerably far from camouflaged now as the precipitation strikes their hindquarters and flanks. Maerys sandy coloring has deepened to a rich cedar and Vradara's rose scales glint softly at the light from above. The mare's silvery-white hair is unruly now, drenched in some segments and hardly moist in others, curling and knotting in unusual ways. As she lifts her cranium and steps deeper into the river, the trees shield her on neither side and she is wholly exposed - something exhilarating and unnerving in one breath.
On this unusual, foreign land, it was most likely wise not to be so blatantly apparent as creatures lurk that are sometimes far removed from friendly - something Maerys had truly yet to learn.
The path she explores goes on for miles before it winds into a different direction or before there is a fork in it which calls for a choice, as if the path was made for something that could move longer distances in a shorter time. For this reason, when a thick river comes into view, Maerys eyes it with curious felicity. The water is green, darker in the shadows and more pale in the light, but still undeniably green. For all its serenity, there is more danger in its swirling depths than the trees behind (especially on this island). Stepping forward carefully, her lips drop to the cool water and she indulges in the refreshing liquid, her front hooves on the edge of submersion.
Maerys and Vradara are considerably far from camouflaged now as the precipitation strikes their hindquarters and flanks. Maerys sandy coloring has deepened to a rich cedar and Vradara's rose scales glint softly at the light from above. The mare's silvery-white hair is unruly now, drenched in some segments and hardly moist in others, curling and knotting in unusual ways. As she lifts her cranium and steps deeper into the river, the trees shield her on neither side and she is wholly exposed - something exhilarating and unnerving in one breath.
On this unusual, foreign land, it was most likely wise not to be so blatantly apparent as creatures lurk that are sometimes far removed from friendly - something Maerys had truly yet to learn.
M A E R Y S
