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.
His orbs were the blush of roses, that peek of champagne pink, with dual-colored jowls that dimpled with the blossoming of a smile. His bulk was the shade of the earth, of nourishing loams and the textured skin of the trees that grew with the variation of fingerprints. It is the sort of brown that is corpulent and expensive, with a definite richness and originality to it. As always in nature, it is an excess of hues able to be felt and seen so generously and so powerfully without words. He was the shade of acorn and mahogany, a brown-haired boy only moderately veiled in porcelain.
Ipomoea was one with nature - something that could never be contested. She'd heard tales about how flowers followed those they desired to and the one she gazed upon now was surely among the chosen. His hoof prints were nurturing, inviting instant germination and efflorescence to the soil. At his head was a wreath of flowers that seemed well removed from wilted, as if they relished in the gift of lounging upon his brow. These flowers flourished and remained pleasantly among the rich, deep red chocolate cosmos of Ipomoea's body and Maerys could not help but regard as children do, with that look of zest and awe.
As he spoke, his timbre was both anticipated and unanticipated - airy and light, the stallion enunciated with no shyness and Maerys' ears tipped forward with marvel. The girl almost wanted to say there was a lyrical quality about it all - potent yet with an agreeable trace of lightheartedness. He chirps a greeting to the mare who's lips have turned upwards into a kind smile, one not overly intense, but with a crisp hint of wonder.
When he inquired if she was on her way to Denocte, her eyes flitted around Ipomoea to the view just beyond the mountain, down the sloping path before her; she saw hundreds of trees that merged into the body of one comprehensive forest before the horizon was deconstructed, sifted into the azure of the heavens. Anything beyond this certain point solidified as unviewable from this distance. When her mauve sights were set once more on the stallion, they were filled with uncertainty as she confessed: "If 't be true I am, I wasn't aware I wast." From her rosy lips escaped a slight laugh, the admittance of her blunder. Wandering in such a manner as she was, was unusual - she didn't quite know what path she took to get here, she didn't know this was the beginning of a well-defined territory, she just appeared. For all she knew, she could be mere strides from intersecting Denocte's border or she could've already crossed it. "I liveth in Delumine and know not an abundance about further territories, unfortunately." What could be a better way to acquaint oneself than experiencing it first hand?
When his eyes fell to the path between them and he reflected on their unfortunate situation and scarcity of wings, her eyes crinkled as her lips split and curled upwards into a brief interlude of giggles. Something about this all seemed humorous to her. His fetlocks were each adorned similar to the birds - soft downy wings. "It appears thou art closer to having this gift than me." Though they would be no use here, his wings retained the same sense of power and definition that full-sized wings did and though they were considerably more modest, the appendages still grabbed an equal amount of attention. "Mine own name is Maerys," she offers finally, her laugh now faded into a simple smile.
Ipomoea was one with nature - something that could never be contested. She'd heard tales about how flowers followed those they desired to and the one she gazed upon now was surely among the chosen. His hoof prints were nurturing, inviting instant germination and efflorescence to the soil. At his head was a wreath of flowers that seemed well removed from wilted, as if they relished in the gift of lounging upon his brow. These flowers flourished and remained pleasantly among the rich, deep red chocolate cosmos of Ipomoea's body and Maerys could not help but regard as children do, with that look of zest and awe.
As he spoke, his timbre was both anticipated and unanticipated - airy and light, the stallion enunciated with no shyness and Maerys' ears tipped forward with marvel. The girl almost wanted to say there was a lyrical quality about it all - potent yet with an agreeable trace of lightheartedness. He chirps a greeting to the mare who's lips have turned upwards into a kind smile, one not overly intense, but with a crisp hint of wonder.
When he inquired if she was on her way to Denocte, her eyes flitted around Ipomoea to the view just beyond the mountain, down the sloping path before her; she saw hundreds of trees that merged into the body of one comprehensive forest before the horizon was deconstructed, sifted into the azure of the heavens. Anything beyond this certain point solidified as unviewable from this distance. When her mauve sights were set once more on the stallion, they were filled with uncertainty as she confessed: "If 't be true I am, I wasn't aware I wast." From her rosy lips escaped a slight laugh, the admittance of her blunder. Wandering in such a manner as she was, was unusual - she didn't quite know what path she took to get here, she didn't know this was the beginning of a well-defined territory, she just appeared. For all she knew, she could be mere strides from intersecting Denocte's border or she could've already crossed it. "I liveth in Delumine and know not an abundance about further territories, unfortunately." What could be a better way to acquaint oneself than experiencing it first hand?
When his eyes fell to the path between them and he reflected on their unfortunate situation and scarcity of wings, her eyes crinkled as her lips split and curled upwards into a brief interlude of giggles. Something about this all seemed humorous to her. His fetlocks were each adorned similar to the birds - soft downy wings. "It appears thou art closer to having this gift than me." Though they would be no use here, his wings retained the same sense of power and definition that full-sized wings did and though they were considerably more modest, the appendages still grabbed an equal amount of attention. "Mine own name is Maerys," she offers finally, her laugh now faded into a simple smile.
M A E R Y S
