Meadow

Force-claiming is not allowed here. This is a peaceful, neutral area meant for socialising.

~ where innocences burn in flames. - [open]
Posted on November 11, 2020 at 02:07:29 AM by Bj�rn

I'm frozen to the bones, I am...

The ocean's surf bubbles and froths at his hooves. He is silent beneath the dark shroud of night, just the soft breath of breeze ruffles through his unkempt mane and whispers across the moonlit sands. Her breath is cool against his damp skin. He closes icy glacial eyes and breathes in the familiar scent that is the Isles.

They had returned to the Nor�urland. He had returned her home just as he promised. With a soft embrace they had parted ways on that too familiar shore. And with pain in his heart he had pivoted and returned to the sea, no matter how much he wished to stay there with his kin, the Isles were where he belonged.

Hooves shuffle beneath his weight as he pushes himself from the sea and onto the sandy shores. Salty water clings to the feathers of his legs and to the coat that grows thicker with each passing day.

He steps beneath the naked branches of the trees. A well worn path winds its way from the roaring sea and deeper into the familiar land. He pushes beneath their scraggly fingers and ignores their tug at his onyx tendrils. It is only a few breathes until the meadow opens up before him. His glacial eyes scan the vast grassland but only hesitates a moment longer before he drops his teeth to the tender shoots of grass. Hungrily he strips the grass from the earth.

The past few months have been unkind to him. The Norns have been unkind. He snorts at the thought. They mock him with their trials.

With a sigh on his lips he pushes himself from the grasses once his belly no longer clenches and grumbles. His steps are heavy and his body grows weary. Rest. It calls to him. He pushes himself deeper into the dense thicket into a small clearing, where he lays himself onto a bed of decaying leaves. Their scent is heavy and pungent, but they offer comfort to the Bera Konung. He closes his heavy eyelids and allows the dark surround him. Finally he falls into a fit-less slumber.

Icelandic Mutt // 12 years old // 14.2 hh // Grullo Sabino // Stallion
Bera Konung

html, art & Bjorn � erin | pixel base � fintron | Ref Here

ooc: eeeek that is a bit rusty! forgive me! <3

Replies:

You are mine to me; - By Raksha November 11, 2020 at 02:10:42 AM
- the colder the heart the warmer the gun - By Brunhild November 12, 2020 at 02:57:46 PM
  - I'm frozen to the bones, I am... - By Bj�rn November 14, 2020 at 02:59:22 AM
    - Mine to me; - By Raksha November 18, 2020 at 09:51:58 PM
      - the colder the heart the warmer the gun - By Brunhild November 25, 2020 at 02:12:10 PM

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