<font color= "#80767a " face="dawning of a new day" size="2px">~ your soul of light;</i></font> crow

Your King Asmodeus
Your Queen ~~Nyimara~~
The Second None
The Herd Name, Name, Name		The Sub-Herd Name, Name, Name
Allies Name (Land)		Enemies Solomon (Cove)
The Rules There will be no fraternizing with enemies. If you put yourself knowingly in danger, don't expect a rescue. We are only as strong as our weakest link. See to it that you are getting stronger in some skill that is useful, whether it is battling, recruiting, charming, etc. The King and Queen have final say in all matters.

~ your soul of light; crow
Posted on July 19, 2020 at 02:48:53 AM by Najaat

~ your wraith-like figure.
☪

A scream is choked out of her throat as another barrage of sand pummels into her delicate skin. She desperately clinches her dark eyes shut in a desperate attempt to keep the sands from pushing themselves into her eyes. It invades her nose and threatens to choke the very breath from her lungs. But despite her protest and muttered prayers the winds and sand continue to pummel her. Her heart thunders wildly against her chest and for the first time since she was just a filly, fear grips at her and tears into her soul.

It is hours before finally the winds cease their howling and the sun peaks itself through the aftermath of the sand storm.

◦�◦�◦�◦�◦�◦�◦�◦�◦�◦�◦�◦�◦�◦�◦�◦

A breath pushes itself past her flaring nostrils as she lifts her head in a desperate attempt to free herself from her sandy grave. Her body shivers despite the arid temperature around her and a cold sweat breaks out across her neck. She slowly opens her dark eyes. It is brilliantly bright. Her heart stutters in her chest as she clenches them shut again. Another breath slips past her lips as she wills her lids to open. It is brilliantly bright. A whimper slips from her lips as she swallows the lump that begins to develop in her throat.

Slowly she pulls her shaking legs beneath herself and - less than gracefully - clambers to her hooves. Every inch of her body feels raw, as if her skin is peeling from sinew and muscle below it. She blinks again, but all there is is blinding light and pain. She had not expected the sand storm to overtake her... and when it did she did the only thing she could think of. Lay at its feet and hope that the gods and the sands would take mercy on her.

Each step is agony.

"Tanrı�a anne,"" she mumbles the prayer as she limps through the desert beneath the glaring sun while the dark birds circle above her. She knows their desire. Their desire to pick her flesh from her bones. The thought does not frighten her, near enough. What frightens her... is the thought that she would never find her sister. She chokes back the tears that threaten to spill onto her cheeks. Her heart clenches in her chest as the realization begins to set in.

Today, could be her last.

Alkhal Teke - 5 years old - Rose Grey - Mare
Fierce Protector of the Desert

html, art & character � erin | pixel base � fintron

Replies:

oh, i haven't got a brain - By scarecrow July 20, 2020 at 11:11:06 PM
- your wraith-like figure. - By Najaat August 1, 2020 at 07:45:18 PM
  - oh, i haven't got a brain - By scarecrow August 13, 2020 at 00:59:10 AM

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