Israfel
It was the perfect morning for a run.
The Terminus Sea skirted the borders of Terrastella, and it was upon the shoreline that Israfel began her daily routine. Since being taken in by the Dusk Court, the gilded maiden had done her best to push her body back into tip-top shape. It was proving difficult, given the fact that she was recovering from death itself and prone to episodes of unfathomable exhaustion and fatigue, but the Sun Daughter was nothing if not resolute. There was far too much riding on her shoulders than to simply stand about and do nothing. No, she had lived a life of that, of pettiness, selfishness, and greed, swallowed by vanity, and Israfel would no longer walk that path.
No. She had chosen a new path, even if she doubted herself and her abilities, especially without the flaming magics passed on from her Godly father. The route of a warrior would be a difficult, arduous one, bringing forth a potential future of bloodshed and death, but Israfel did not balk or back away from the offer. If anything, it simply made her more determined, more desperate to prove herself, and her worth.
So, that was why she found herself upon the beaches against the Terminus Sea, cloven hooves creating a rapid, muffled staccato against sand and rocks as she galloped upon the shoreline. The alabaster warrior's wings were outstretched, gilded feathers bristled and taut, catching wind as she ran to create a force of resistance in an attempt to strengthen her body. Rose-kissed nostrils flared, sucking in large gulps of air to fill her lungs, ivory ears pressed back flat against her skull and almost lost amidst wind-swept strands of gilded mane.
By the time that she halted to rest, sides heaving from exertion and sweat clinging to her frame, Israfel felt oddly satisfied. Her moods were unstable, torn between peaceful content and ravaging melancholy, but right now, she was calm. Satisfied. That was, of course, when fiery vermilion eyes spotted a striped figure standing amidst the water and waves of the Sea, staring out amidst the water as though the lapping waves held all of the answers to the world's mysteries. Hell, as a daughter born of fire and flesh, Israfel had never been one to pander to the churning waves, and for all she knew, they did.
Tossing her head to rid the hair from her feminine face and free her vision, the once demi-goddess curled ivory and golden gilded wings close to her sweaty sides, and approached, each golden, cloven hoof carrying the ivory maiden with an elegance and poise that she would, perhaps, never outgrow. Warm vermilion eyes regarded the stranger, taking in what of his appearance that she could from the space between them; his body was striped in lines of ebony, coat a mix of browns and whites, with thick, matted hairs for his mane and tail. The horn upon his brow was a proud thing, and Israfel admired it fondly.
"Hark," she beckoned at last, dulcet vocals light and airy amidst the salty breeze and the crash of waves, halting her advance a good distance away from the stallion just in case her presence was unwanted, "Good morn!"
The Terminus Sea skirted the borders of Terrastella, and it was upon the shoreline that Israfel began her daily routine. Since being taken in by the Dusk Court, the gilded maiden had done her best to push her body back into tip-top shape. It was proving difficult, given the fact that she was recovering from death itself and prone to episodes of unfathomable exhaustion and fatigue, but the Sun Daughter was nothing if not resolute. There was far too much riding on her shoulders than to simply stand about and do nothing. No, she had lived a life of that, of pettiness, selfishness, and greed, swallowed by vanity, and Israfel would no longer walk that path.
No. She had chosen a new path, even if she doubted herself and her abilities, especially without the flaming magics passed on from her Godly father. The route of a warrior would be a difficult, arduous one, bringing forth a potential future of bloodshed and death, but Israfel did not balk or back away from the offer. If anything, it simply made her more determined, more desperate to prove herself, and her worth.
So, that was why she found herself upon the beaches against the Terminus Sea, cloven hooves creating a rapid, muffled staccato against sand and rocks as she galloped upon the shoreline. The alabaster warrior's wings were outstretched, gilded feathers bristled and taut, catching wind as she ran to create a force of resistance in an attempt to strengthen her body. Rose-kissed nostrils flared, sucking in large gulps of air to fill her lungs, ivory ears pressed back flat against her skull and almost lost amidst wind-swept strands of gilded mane.
By the time that she halted to rest, sides heaving from exertion and sweat clinging to her frame, Israfel felt oddly satisfied. Her moods were unstable, torn between peaceful content and ravaging melancholy, but right now, she was calm. Satisfied. That was, of course, when fiery vermilion eyes spotted a striped figure standing amidst the water and waves of the Sea, staring out amidst the water as though the lapping waves held all of the answers to the world's mysteries. Hell, as a daughter born of fire and flesh, Israfel had never been one to pander to the churning waves, and for all she knew, they did.
Tossing her head to rid the hair from her feminine face and free her vision, the once demi-goddess curled ivory and golden gilded wings close to her sweaty sides, and approached, each golden, cloven hoof carrying the ivory maiden with an elegance and poise that she would, perhaps, never outgrow. Warm vermilion eyes regarded the stranger, taking in what of his appearance that she could from the space between them; his body was striped in lines of ebony, coat a mix of browns and whites, with thick, matted hairs for his mane and tail. The horn upon his brow was a proud thing, and Israfel admired it fondly.
"Hark," she beckoned at last, dulcet vocals light and airy amidst the salty breeze and the crash of waves, halting her advance a good distance away from the stallion just in case her presence was unwanted, "Good morn!"
@Hugan
