Warriors unfold whether we're young or old
Sometimes we take and we pillage for gold
From the shallows of the mountains she ventures further, deep into the weaving avenues of cobblestone paths lined with stalls, an array of characters hollering in a bid to sell their nourishments which sting the air with a scent of sweetness. Her wings treasure her pelt, protectively holding her torso as bodies bustle and barge whilst sweat leaked from her pits and she’s forced to brace her crown and push through the gaps.
Unescapable, she realises, the crowds rolled on and on. Her brows sink, ink eyes scan the hustle and the pearl Pegasus wonders – What a peculiar scene. Full of vibrancy and rush, no essence of grace and full of unfamiliar assortments.
But above all the hustle a softly hummed tune reaches her ears the sombre notes draw her chilled heart to sway in tune with the small gathering that embraced the poet’s woes. His lyrics reached her loins and drew a gentle bleed of emotion from her normally stale expression as she fell in sync with the group. It reminds her of the ceremonies back home in the heart of the Katharas family, how they would sing together in harmony and soon she becomes too settled.
Her eyes close, just for a split moment in her enjoyment of the pleasant scene. But then it came - The writhing imagery of flesh and flames and the echoing screams between her two lobes.
Eyes bigger then the ripe apple standing in the stalls behind, she staggers back in horror. The embers of the flames rip riot on her vision and the cries bellowed above the soft tunes and as she clumsily went back on herself she bumped into another. If her cheeks could beam red then they would have. The flustered mare hastily turns to the one behind, eyes shining whilst she presses her wings tightly to her sides to avoid being even clumsier and she addresses a young mare tinged with red splodged markings. “I do apologise,” Muttering tones come from her tongue, careful not to interrupt the ongoing singing.
ooc: Hope you don't mind me popping in on this <3
tags: @Red
Titles deserved and the dead will not rise
It's kinda my fault when the childen all cry
