there's magic in our bones,
a north star in our soul that remembers our way home
The voice of the shadow cloaked stranger ran its icy, chilled fingers down her spine and Jezanna’s posture stiffened slightly in response to the disquieting feeling gripping tightly to her heart. She could barely see them in the darkness of the rain soaked world but for a shimmering of of pink and a flash of white here and there, and each drop that splashed onto her back, her neck, her head and ran down, down, down, only made the shiver of her spine more pronounced. There was a sort of feral wickedness emanating from the other and she was not sure if the feeling pumping blood through her veins was thrill or fear.
Their laugh did not put her at ease, regardless of its feather soft quality.
“What makes you say that?” Jezanna questioned, taking a single step forward, curious. She would not show her fear, even if her body seemed to consider disobeying her. Regardless of what caused the racing of her heart she could play the shivering of her skin down to the cool rain falling over her curves rather than the thought of facing down something inhuman and wild. “And you, where are you from, wandering soul?” And why are you here? Searching for something? she wondered, and yet she dared not think the answer to that.
Jezanna had been in the presence of snakes and knew they could strike quickly and without much warning. For that reason her silver eyes did not leave the muddled figure of the other equine clinging to the gloom beneath the mountain trees, weighed down by water as their branches were. Her cloven hooves pressed against the rock and soil underfoot, the tension in her legs the sign of a sensation she didn’t quite grasp. The young moon had never been hunted before in her life and yet, somehow, somewhere inside her she knew: she was the mouse.
Their laugh did not put her at ease, regardless of its feather soft quality.
“What makes you say that?” Jezanna questioned, taking a single step forward, curious. She would not show her fear, even if her body seemed to consider disobeying her. Regardless of what caused the racing of her heart she could play the shivering of her skin down to the cool rain falling over her curves rather than the thought of facing down something inhuman and wild. “And you, where are you from, wandering soul?” And why are you here? Searching for something? she wondered, and yet she dared not think the answer to that.
Jezanna had been in the presence of snakes and knew they could strike quickly and without much warning. For that reason her silver eyes did not leave the muddled figure of the other equine clinging to the gloom beneath the mountain trees, weighed down by water as their branches were. Her cloven hooves pressed against the rock and soil underfoot, the tension in her legs the sign of a sensation she didn’t quite grasp. The young moon had never been hunted before in her life and yet, somehow, somewhere inside her she knew: she was the mouse.
@Euryale no worries! I don't mind c:
