~ where innocences burn in flames. - - " />
The Lost Islands
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Meadow

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

~ where innocences burn in flames. -
Posted on August 11, 2021 at 07:07:36 PM by Björn



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




Winter's frigid breath settles over the entire Isles, frost clings to brittle yellow grasses and the naked branches of the oak trees, snow piles in piles and ice boarders the edge of each stream and shimmery snowflakes float delicately to the frozen earth. He had spent the dark night beneath the naked branches of a lone stand of oak trees - near the middle of the Meadow. When he woke he watched in quiet wonder as the Isles were bathed in the soft pinks and oranges of the rising sun, the snow glistened and shimmered and the world around him had begun to stir. A few horses milled quietly together on the edge of the meadow, their heads low as they traversed amongst each other. A foal and her mother had appeared but soon had disappeared as the foal had galloped back into the dark forest, her mother quickly on her heels.

The hours crawl slowly by while he watches quietly as the world around him begins to warm slightly as the sun make its descent higher into the clear, cloudless sky. Lazily he flicks his tail across his white splashed hindquarters as he eyes the distant horses, but as his eyes scan the meadow once more, he notices someone different. He watches the graceful way she moves across the frozen grasses, how her neck is elegantly tied into her shoulders and the deep crimson of her coat with faint white speckles. He eyes her for a moment longer before he pushes himself from beneath the naked branches of the oak tree and toward the crimson bathed woman.

Yellow grasses crunch beneath his hooves and brush against his belly as he makes his way toward her. She is slenderly and elegantly built, and just as stunning up close as she was afar. His ears rotate atop his crown as he lifts his thick head higher on his neck and clears his throat to announce his presence.

"I have never seen you around here," he announces "and trust me I would remember," a lopsided grin appears on his pink lips as he compliments the crimson draped woman.

"ég er, Björn, Bera Konung of the Inlet," he lifts his head higher on his muscled neck and tilts his crown upward "Welcome to the Lost Isles, it is place where one can follow their fate or weave their own."

The three spinners wove his fate, but years of living amongst the inhabitants of the Isles has enlightened him on the beliefs of others and their gods.


B j ö r n

Bera Konung of the Inlet
Icelandic Mutt // 15 years old // 14.2 hh // Grullo Sabino // Stallion // Dogun x Freya

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