The Lost Islands
CLICK FOR IMAGE CREDITS


safe from being real.

Beschea
At least it’s not frigid any more. The mare can have that to be thankful of. It’s the least she can ask—not freezing to death when she finally up and looks at the rest of the islands. The ice and snow had started to melt from the beaches of the common island, and Dresden allows that to be her sign to leave. Things had been… passable. At best, it was passable. At worst… passable. There wasn’t much to complain about, aside from the bite that had come to her shoulder. The stallion hadn’t bothered to lay a real claim though… so she was done.

Dresden had been done for quite a while, but it was okay. She was able to handle being done with the bullshit that had been spinning around her head. It was so easy to not bother with holding on, to not bother with paying too close an attention. She meets the sea with full force of shoulders and powerful legs—that’s what she can handle. Dresden can handle the fighting, the battling with the sea and the surf. It’s a bit more choppy than comfortable today, but she’ll deal with it. Nothing like a little danger to wake you up in the morning, right? The sable thought so.

It was on the shores of an island that was still faintly crusted in snow that she washed up. Everything was thick with trees and dense with foliage… she could deal with that. The champagne shadow was able to fade into the background as she moved, drying in the chill of the shade. It wasn’t something she would mess with. What was clear was the fact that she’d made her way into someone’s home. The creature figured what would come would come—no one was going to kick a mare out, right? Dresden, at lease, had her confidence as she lowered her head go graze. Never once did her guard drop, though. On her toes, she stayed.


mare. mature. sable champagne. walking disaster.



Replies:


Post a reply:
Name:
Subject:
Message:
Link Name:
Link URL:
Image URL:
Password To Edit Post:







<-- -->