A child of the sun, prodigy crafted by Solis Himself, a lithe and serpentine specimen built to survive the harshest climates of Solterra. She is an oasis to a thirsty traveler, refined by the grit of sands that dance in the wind; a colorful cocktail of mexican red clay, the white-hot glare of the midday sun, and the black of an unfathomable desert sky at night. Her body is a treasure trove of culture and secrets, one who dances with the ghosts that haunt her, a wraith of summer heat and mirrored mirages.
And even though she is as wild as mother nature herself, she is apprehensive of the ocean.
Fever stands a few yards back from the shore: sands stretch for endless measures behind her, the shade of a few palm trees her only refuge from the fat sun that burns in the sky. The expanse of water in front of her is a tropical shade of blue, the waves in the gentle tide sparkling like scattered diamonds while seafoam collects on the sand like a pearl necklace.
Like all beautiful things, Fever is drawn to it. She is enamored with the way the shore pushes away the sea but always pulls her back in, like a forbidden dance between two lovers who were never meant to be. It demands her attention, the way a wild dancer would, beckons her in with a promise of cool relief for her hot skin. Yes, the ocean seduces Fever, but she cannot find the strength to ever meet her.
In the slave houses, her mates would speak of horror stories of those who had drown and how they would never be able to meet Solis in death. Just like being buried, drowning is not a noble death - there is no honor in having the ocean keep your body.
Yet, there was once a time where she had promised a dear friend that they would one day play in the ocean together.
But she had abandoned him, and she was certain he had moved on to frolic in the sea with someone else. Perhaps she would find his ghost in those waters - she could succumb and perhaps find him at the bottom of the ocean floor with open arms, a waltz awaiting her. Her mother could be down there as well, screaming out to Fever with a voice that would go unheard. How would Fever know she wasn't down there unless she looked?
An ache squeezes her heart in an invisible vice as she lays in the shade alone; the mare tries to distract her wandering mind by watching the water giggle at her, admiring the seductive ebb and flow of the tide, letting the tantalizing salt in the air try to tempt her into taking a step into the unknown.
And even though she is as wild as mother nature herself, she is apprehensive of the ocean.
Fever stands a few yards back from the shore: sands stretch for endless measures behind her, the shade of a few palm trees her only refuge from the fat sun that burns in the sky. The expanse of water in front of her is a tropical shade of blue, the waves in the gentle tide sparkling like scattered diamonds while seafoam collects on the sand like a pearl necklace.
Like all beautiful things, Fever is drawn to it. She is enamored with the way the shore pushes away the sea but always pulls her back in, like a forbidden dance between two lovers who were never meant to be. It demands her attention, the way a wild dancer would, beckons her in with a promise of cool relief for her hot skin. Yes, the ocean seduces Fever, but she cannot find the strength to ever meet her.
In the slave houses, her mates would speak of horror stories of those who had drown and how they would never be able to meet Solis in death. Just like being buried, drowning is not a noble death - there is no honor in having the ocean keep your body.
Yet, there was once a time where she had promised a dear friend that they would one day play in the ocean together.
But she had abandoned him, and she was certain he had moved on to frolic in the sea with someone else. Perhaps she would find his ghost in those waters - she could succumb and perhaps find him at the bottom of the ocean floor with open arms, a waltz awaiting her. Her mother could be down there as well, screaming out to Fever with a voice that would go unheard. How would Fever know she wasn't down there unless she looked?
An ache squeezes her heart in an invisible vice as she lays in the shade alone; the mare tries to distract her wandering mind by watching the water giggle at her, admiring the seductive ebb and flow of the tide, letting the tantalizing salt in the air try to tempt her into taking a step into the unknown.
![[Image: 45505141_kShAGp5UVRG2Lvt.png]](https://f2.toyhou.se/file/f2-toyhou-se/images/45505141_kShAGp5UVRG2Lvt.png)
i am a forest fire; i am the fire and i am the forest
and i am a witness watching it
