Jade Fern Grove she wasn't looking for a knight, she was looking for a sword
I hear the drums echoing tonight
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Ooc — Koffey
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     @Krypton (this is taking place before Embry's appearance at Golden Glade/spar with Feyre)
     Embry's large, golden mass was dwarfed by the lively congregation of olive and apple hues surrounding him. Bolts of honey-bronze sunlight drove hazy stripes across the opulent undergrowth, so that his paws were entangled in the flaxen streams. From where he lay, pressed against the earth in a sprawled position, he was ostensibly impartial to the world around him. He was lost amidst a swirling scenery, eyes skimming across the vibrant coverts; youthful in the mid-day expanse. There was no particular reason for his curiosity, or, quite shrewdly, his choice of location. In truth, he was losing a part of himself that he had been born to command: life constantly at the heels of another wolf.

     The loss of total social infrastructure and hierarchy, with its complete physical Darwinism, had taken a massive toll on the mechanics behind day-to-day life. He no longer felt that which was the need to earn respect, or, in retrospect, give any in return. You shouldn't have left. His mind chattered like an insolent bird, badgering him for his deliquency and lack of tact. He could feel his lips curling subconciously at the admonition. Somewhere in the distance, the soft chantey of birds lifted from within the depths of the grove, somewhat concilliating his sudden (albeit unusual) height in temper.

     His aureate fur shimmered as he moved, ears angled toward the source of the noise. His nose quivered incoherently as his sea-green orbs lapsed from thicket to thicket, traipsing across the various scarlets and ivies before him. The previous moment's mood vanished entirely, replaced by a new sense of residual alarm. He had almost forgotten that this was not the coast anymore, nor the fen. "Who's there?" His voice blemished the beauty of the coppice, deep and resonant in comparison to the soft landscape. They sounded so foreign on his lips - the first words he had spoken since his expulsion from the fen. 

     
ϟ
​I stopped an old man along the way,
hoping to find some long forgotten words or ancient melodies.
He turned to me as if to say,
"Hurry boy, it's waiting there for you".
Messages In This Thread
she wasn't looking for a knight, she was looking for a sword - by Embry - April 10, 2017, 05:36 PM