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She was lost again. This is why she didn’t explore places alone – she got lost and when you were lost, it was easier for the bad things to eat you. Nervously, she fidgeted, hiding in the trees, button eyes wide and searching for any sign of danger. It was bright and warm, the sun at its highest point, so there was truly little danger of a predator, but in her mind…it didn’t matter. Something was stalking her. It was always stalking her. In the human world, it would be called “paranoia,” and she would be heavily medicated, but alas – we have no such things here in this world. Instead of being medicated, she whipped her neck to and fro, ears twitching constantly, searching for the next foot-fall, the next snapping twig, the soft growl or licking of fangs. She fidgeted a little more, prancing in place, tail flipping to and fro. She was not a fighter. She never had been. Hell, when the diseased dragon appeared and wanted to kill everyone, she wanted to save it! She was not made for fighting. She was a lover – and not even really that. She had loved him, and only him; but he never knew. Another sound behind her (probably a pinecone falling from a pine tree) sent her nerves into a frenzy, and she bolted from the trees, a guttural, fearful sound bubbling up from her throat. She had no knowledge of where she was going, or where she might be. All she knew was that something was behind her, salivating and nipping at her heels, seeking out her Achilles tendons so it could then fall upon her exposed throat, killing her with its giant fangs. She gave a squeal as the imaginary creature (damn pinecone) neared, and she ran headlong, button eyes not seeing clearly, senses working overtime. Finally, she collided headlong into…something. It was hard enough to stop her flight, but soft enough to not kill her. She struck and then fell sideways, landing on her knees, her rump quickly following suit, sending her rolling once…twice…and almost a third time before she stilled, lying dazed on the earth. She knew that whatever was chasing her was going to pounce any moment, but she couldn’t move. The earth was spinning, and her breath was coming in ragged gasps. What had she hit? She strained to see what it was, and thought she saw another body. She gave another squeal – this time, one of surprise. Had she hurt whomever she ran into? She hoped not! She had to warn them that there was something about to eat them both! Struggling to both breathe and move, she strained until she rose unsteadily to her feet. You would think that for one who was built for endurance, a run through the trees wouldn’t affect her so much, but apparently, she was out of practice. Wobbling toward the body she struck, she searched desperately for the monster. There had to be one…it was breathing down her neck only a moment ago! ”I…was…being…chased…!” The words came slowly, in short bursts as she struggled to slow her breathing. What felt like months later, her breathing came slower, easier, and she was able to speak more clearly. ”It was right there! Behind me!” Searching the deep holes her hooves had made, she realized there were no other prints – no predatory tracks, no extra hooves…there was nothing. IF she could have blushed, she would have been red as an apple by now. ”I’m so sorry…did I hurt you? You aren’t going to kill me are you?” She ducked her head and glanced up behind hooded eyes. She figured that she had probably hurt this other, and they were going to punish her with death. Oh, she hoped not! But… what if? ”Speech” |
 | Silver chain from the pirate siren | Blue Macaw feather in mane | |
All Welcome - When Exploring goes Bad (Open!)
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Seraphina’s dark hooves danced across the fire-orange sands of the Mors, sending up a spray of glittering gold in her wake; a late-night storm had brought her to the coast in the morning, and she’d spent hours combing through the wreckage that had washed ashore. Sometimes bizarre trinkets and strange creatures from faraway lands found their ways to the shore of the Mors Desert, and, on rare occasion, even a castaway or two that had gotten caught in the storm. (Sometimes they were dead, and, like the strangers that she’d occasionally find buried beneath the sands, she’d bury them. Seraphina did not consider much of anything sacred, but she had respect for the dead. More often they were alive, disoriented and confused and in desperate need of a guide. She begrudgingly served the role.) This morning, nothing of interest had washed ashore, save for a few jellyfish (long dried-out) and bits of driftwood and wreckage, so she’d returned relatively early. Now she was cascading across dunes and valleys, cresting great mountains of sand and diving back down them with a sense of grace and professional accuracy – hooves never slipping in spite of the skidding sand – that came from years of travelling Solterra. The heat clung to her like a mantle. She was simply glad that she was nearing the Oasis. A long drink of fresh, cool water and a bit of shade, not to mention ample room to clean the sand and salt from her coat, sounded wonderful. She wasn’t distracted, per say. Being distracted in the Mors was a good way to wind up getting bitten by a snake or eaten alive by a sandwyrm, or caught in a sandstorm or sucked under by quicksand. However, as she crested the ridge of another dune, Seraphina was not anticipating being rammed by a dainty silver mare. She’d thought nothing of the rhythmic thump and swish until she recognized it as the beat of hooves and the skid of sand, and, even then, she only realized that she had stepped right into the way of an evidently panicked mare when she was already sprawled out on the sand, legs flailing and eyes rolling as she searched for her assailant and attempted to stand. She was back on her hooves in little more than a moment, and she found herself staring down a brilliantly silver creature – her coat gleamed metallic in the hot sunlight, though it was streaked with sand and sweat. She stammered out something about being chased, inky black eyes darting as she searched for any sign of her own assailant…and seemed to find none. Seraphina blinked, shaking her head very slightly as though to regain some semblance of the sense that had just been knocked out of her, and tried to focus on the mare’s last question. She asked if she was alright, and, oddly enough, if she intended to kill her. The warrior fixed the smaller mare with a skeptical stare, but, when she spoke, her tone was cold and dry as ever. “I’m fine…and I have no intention to kill you. Are you alright?” She didn’t sound especially concerned, but, considering that she saw no signs of whatever creature the mare claimed to have been pursued by, far as the eye could see, Seraphina supposed that she should probably ask. “I don’t see anything...but there are creatures that can move around in the Mors without leaving any signs.” Sandwyrms, for one. Nasty things – you might see a trickle of sand, and then, gulp! You found yourself with a pair of jaws locked around your torso, or, worst, your neck. “You’re from…the dawn court, correct? I can smell the Delumine on you.” The sweet scent of flowers and lush greenery was a bit hard to miss, particularly in the depths of the Mors. “You’ve wandered into Solterra – I’m Seraphina, Day Court warrior. If you’re worried that something is trailing you, I can escort you back to the borders.” She’d escort the mare back to the borders either way, since she was trespassing, and Seraphina could hardly leave a trespasser alone to wander, but she supposed the offer might set her – apparently frazzled – nerves at ease. @Coraline <3  I'M IN A ROOM MADE OUT OF MIRRORSand there's no way to escape the violence of a girl against herself.☼please tag Sera! contact is encouraged, short of violence
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