The dark had come, and again Rorschach found herself somewhere new. It was always the story with this wanderer – a change of scenery, a change of pace. Her inkblot-splashed face turned to the heavens, staring at the stars as she recited their names in her mind. Cygnus. Aquila. These were constants – the stars, and nothing else. In the days that she’d been cast into nowhere, only the stars had been her companions through the long nights and the cold winters. Only the stars had given her hope that someday she might be reunited with those who were so cruelly taken from her. But as time marched on, even that hope had begun to wane.
Her purple eyes are the only remarkable thing on her in the night, glowing softly as she blinked against the darkness. Already, she had adjusted to night vision, making out the forms of milling equines here and there, but she didn’t stop to talk. Ahead there was a temple, stoic and proud against the midnight sky, and she knew without asking that she was in a place of great reverence. Not one to disturb the peace, Rorschach strayed to the shadows, out of sight for most of the evening walkers, unless they too chose to lurk on the edge.
One such beast stood in her path, and for a moment, the grey and brindled mare was taken aback. She stopped short of reaching him, piercing eyes roaming up and down his form. There was a dangerous look to him – a regal look to him. Even in the night, she could see that he was a creature not to be meddled with. Time had taught the mare another thing – to be cautious around strangers. The scars that littered her body told him that she could handle herself, but still, she kept a respectable distance away, letting the male close the gap between them, if he so chose.
Her purple eyes are the only remarkable thing on her in the night, glowing softly as she blinked against the darkness. Already, she had adjusted to night vision, making out the forms of milling equines here and there, but she didn’t stop to talk. Ahead there was a temple, stoic and proud against the midnight sky, and she knew without asking that she was in a place of great reverence. Not one to disturb the peace, Rorschach strayed to the shadows, out of sight for most of the evening walkers, unless they too chose to lurk on the edge.
One such beast stood in her path, and for a moment, the grey and brindled mare was taken aback. She stopped short of reaching him, piercing eyes roaming up and down his form. There was a dangerous look to him – a regal look to him. Even in the night, she could see that he was a creature not to be meddled with. Time had taught the mare another thing – to be cautious around strangers. The scars that littered her body told him that she could handle herself, but still, she kept a respectable distance away, letting the male close the gap between them, if he so chose.
@Reichenbach
