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Summer, already, was her least treasured of the seasons.
The sky blazed a pale azure in the late morning, stretching wide across the canvas above - few clouds gathered like seafoam to mask the vibrant hues, but there was an aspect of monochrome to Niebla's youthful figure, body appearing to slither like pale mist betwixt the trees of the keep. She was an oddity, this girl, in her detatchment; her stoicism. As though she had been birthed from eternal frost, the polar gasps of a hiemal dragon, rather than the steady warmth of her mother's womb. Little was revealed in her glacial stare, despite her age, and it was often this that kept the other children away - as though, perhaps, they might be scared of her.
She didn't object.
The young winter sylph slowed her steps as the mellow breeze began to die down, leaving a pit of heat in its wake - from this calefaction, amongst the vivid vegetation, came the fluttering of miniscule wings, beating in their ignorance over the waves of the air. For a moment, she simply observed the butterfly. Niebla's lips parted then, a cold breath wooshing from her jaws to blow the creature away, into the abyss of the world. Where it would travel from there, she could not see.
Go, little 'fly.
She was simply correcting the path.
The sky blazed a pale azure in the late morning, stretching wide across the canvas above - few clouds gathered like seafoam to mask the vibrant hues, but there was an aspect of monochrome to Niebla's youthful figure, body appearing to slither like pale mist betwixt the trees of the keep. She was an oddity, this girl, in her detatchment; her stoicism. As though she had been birthed from eternal frost, the polar gasps of a hiemal dragon, rather than the steady warmth of her mother's womb. Little was revealed in her glacial stare, despite her age, and it was often this that kept the other children away - as though, perhaps, they might be scared of her.
She didn't object.
The young winter sylph slowed her steps as the mellow breeze began to die down, leaving a pit of heat in its wake - from this calefaction, amongst the vivid vegetation, came the fluttering of miniscule wings, beating in their ignorance over the waves of the air. For a moment, she simply observed the butterfly. Niebla's lips parted then, a cold breath wooshing from her jaws to blow the creature away, into the abyss of the world. Where it would travel from there, she could not see.
Go, little 'fly.
She was simply correcting the path.
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Messages In This Thread
the good ones always die - by Niebla - July 25, 2019, 09:47 AM
RE: the good ones always die - by Cry - July 30, 2019, 11:39 AM
RE: the good ones always die - by Niebla - July 31, 2019, 07:33 AM
RE: the good ones always die - by Cry - August 04, 2019, 03:36 PM
RE: the good ones always die - by Niebla - August 06, 2019, 02:02 PM
RE: the good ones always die - by Cry - August 09, 2019, 04:25 PM