ardent

scary world



Lirika

Loner

age
10 Years
gender
Female
gems
0
size
Extra large
build
Light
posts
98
player
03-20-2015, 06:18 PM
Frosted limbs would drag the towering woman forth, the ground should have trembled in her wake. Yet, the pallid dancer moved with all the grace of a phantom. Perhaps she was, for only the gods knew that she should have died a thousand times over by now. Regal cranium was raised high above her narrow shoulders, mercury gaze trailing over the landscape absently. She didn't recall ever visiting these parts of Alacritia in her childhood. A soft huff of vague interest would slip past inky lips, long lashes falling to caress her cheeks in a languid sweep that betrayed her ease. Casual stride would carry her toward a lake, betrayed by the sweet scent of its contents. She had not quenched her thirst as of late, and it was beginning to stir in her throat. Coal paws would slip easily over the terra, toward the banks. Tall audits would twitch toward the sounds of faint vocals, directing her colourless stare to the form of a twisted wretch upon the edges of the lake.

Gaze would narrow, silvery pools questing further to the visage of the other. Scarred and filthy, though unmistakably lupine. It crouched tentatively at the waters edge, as though the crystalline liquid might suddenly leap from its prison and attack. The thought brought a hint of mirth to her expression, hardened features softening in the slightest- brows lifting and dark lips curving just so. Optics would drift from the gnarled canine a couple hundred feet to her left, attention shifting instead to the lake. A drink would be very nice indeed. Forelimbs would bend gracefully, alabaster bodice falling gently to the dirt below her. Without word the dame's rosy tongue would stretch forth, taking in the cool aqua. Talons would loosen their grip upon the earth, tensed muscles relaxing for a moment or two. So far, the moment was peaceful. Pleasant, even.

Rump would lower to the ground, ivory plume settling casually behind her. Slowly her forelegs would stretch upward, the fae rising so she might be able to look over the mirror surface of the water. It was warm here, and her thick pelt was a very real curse upon her form. Salvation would find her in the form of a gentle breeze, stirring the cobalt feathers entwined in the lengthy hairs upon her breast. It dragged its fingers lavishly through her pelt, seeking to cool her skin. Softly would she sigh, moonstone pools slowly covered by their lids. So far, home was everything she remembered.