Post by otho on Aug 14, 2010 10:35:27 GMT 8
Jegathema
The gray stallion walked slowly through Alaknanda, nibbling at what little grass was uncovered by snow. It had been many seasons since he had come to these lands, but things had worn upon him. That was not to say that he was worn out, not by far. His small gray ears were alert, flicking every which way as he listened to the snow muffled noises around him. His white mane was layered with snow, cool against his hot neck. The king's black tail waved back and forth, brushing off bits of snow that tickled him.
He raised his head, looking around. The willows were gorgeous as always, but in a different manner than what the island trees were like in the warm summer months. Instead they were covered with pearls of snow, like frozen leaves. Breathtaking branches fell to the ground in white cascades, causing cloudy curtains to form, sheltering and inviting against the light wind.
The ground was blanketed in the pure fluff, but it was as nothing compared to the river, which was black and silver, with a thin layer of snow coating some parts of it, blown about by the breeze.
Above was a cloudy gray sky, which matched the stag's coat of pearly smoke-like hair. Occasionally a cold winter sun peeked out, feeble and chill, as if it would never offer warmth again.
Coating all the island, across the river's waters, was a light mist, causing things to seem as ghosts in the winter morning.
Jegathema called out, his voice strangely loud in the vast, snow-filled world. "Hello, I come seeking those who search for a home, and I offer mine freely to them." he waited then, his ears pricked expectantly, waiting among a grove of willows, sheltered among the snow bedecked trees.
The gray stallion walked slowly through Alaknanda, nibbling at what little grass was uncovered by snow. It had been many seasons since he had come to these lands, but things had worn upon him. That was not to say that he was worn out, not by far. His small gray ears were alert, flicking every which way as he listened to the snow muffled noises around him. His white mane was layered with snow, cool against his hot neck. The king's black tail waved back and forth, brushing off bits of snow that tickled him.
He raised his head, looking around. The willows were gorgeous as always, but in a different manner than what the island trees were like in the warm summer months. Instead they were covered with pearls of snow, like frozen leaves. Breathtaking branches fell to the ground in white cascades, causing cloudy curtains to form, sheltering and inviting against the light wind.
The ground was blanketed in the pure fluff, but it was as nothing compared to the river, which was black and silver, with a thin layer of snow coating some parts of it, blown about by the breeze.
Above was a cloudy gray sky, which matched the stag's coat of pearly smoke-like hair. Occasionally a cold winter sun peeked out, feeble and chill, as if it would never offer warmth again.
Coating all the island, across the river's waters, was a light mist, causing things to seem as ghosts in the winter morning.
Jegathema called out, his voice strangely loud in the vast, snow-filled world. "Hello, I come seeking those who search for a home, and I offer mine freely to them." he waited then, his ears pricked expectantly, waiting among a grove of willows, sheltered among the snow bedecked trees.