Post by madiebeau on Oct 9, 2015 19:01:36 GMT -8
Feeding on fever,
down on all fours.
Even in this strange land, the bite of winter seems inescapable. Static electricity makes the air unstable. Fenrir knows that soon it will either rain, or snow, but that the clouds cannot hold back their bounty much longer. It seems odd that he should choose to travel further upwards into the mountainous territory of Highiron, but down below in the forests of Ibarda, and the shores of Aquitica, things are much too muggy and wet. Perhaps, the red-black stallion thinks he can rise above the rain clouds, and to an extent, he does just that.
As he gains elevation, the rain turns to sleet, turns to snow. Fenrir seems to mirror the tall, dark trees that he seeks shelter in. Still, he wears a light dusting of snow along his topline, just as the evergreens wear upon their lower branches. Here, at least the earth is frozen, where mud riddles the lowlands. Perhaps, this alone is enough to cause Fenrir to want to stay.
Still, he ventures further, and the wood becomes more tangled and coarse as he does so. It is as if the land were hiding something.
Fenrir has always been a sucker for unearthing hidden treasures. Something about taking things from someone else just makes his heart go pitter pat, even if that ‘someone’ he is stealing from is the forest itself.
Deeper, deeper he goes. The Wildwood throws beautiful clearings, all filled with white, before him. It bends to and fro, and takes him back from where he came. It steals time, and make his wanderings seem to last hours when only a few minutes have passed. Snow eliminates the static charge from the air, and the moon comes to bounce its light off of the pale blanket. Before he knows it, he has spent an entire day roving the brambles, and twisted woodland.
Finally, the tangled shadows, and barbed branches give way to a moonlit lake. A treasure deep within the hollow of the Wildwood’s belly. Fenrir lets his usual smirk play across his lips, and a hmph of satisfaction escape his throat. Here is something that Bitter Lullen never had.
As he gains elevation, the rain turns to sleet, turns to snow. Fenrir seems to mirror the tall, dark trees that he seeks shelter in. Still, he wears a light dusting of snow along his topline, just as the evergreens wear upon their lower branches. Here, at least the earth is frozen, where mud riddles the lowlands. Perhaps, this alone is enough to cause Fenrir to want to stay.
Still, he ventures further, and the wood becomes more tangled and coarse as he does so. It is as if the land were hiding something.
Fenrir has always been a sucker for unearthing hidden treasures. Something about taking things from someone else just makes his heart go pitter pat, even if that ‘someone’ he is stealing from is the forest itself.
Deeper, deeper he goes. The Wildwood throws beautiful clearings, all filled with white, before him. It bends to and fro, and takes him back from where he came. It steals time, and make his wanderings seem to last hours when only a few minutes have passed. Snow eliminates the static charge from the air, and the moon comes to bounce its light off of the pale blanket. Before he knows it, he has spent an entire day roving the brambles, and twisted woodland.
Finally, the tangled shadows, and barbed branches give way to a moonlit lake. A treasure deep within the hollow of the Wildwood’s belly. Fenrir lets his usual smirk play across his lips, and a hmph of satisfaction escape his throat. Here is something that Bitter Lullen never had.
FENRIR
MADE BY VEL OF GS + ADOXOGRPHY 2.0
