Post by Deleted on Jul 16, 2015 9:24:39 GMT
AW, but i wouldn't prefer confrontations!
she was beautiful, but she was beautiful;; the trickling of ocean here was ancient; not like the sky blue of tidal basins or the dank greys of wild sea - it was much more, a living being, to thrash and to undercut, all the while maintaining a tremulous serenity, so as if to be the forbidden fruit to wary, thirsty passerby. and yet, she could see the matter. the young straits were so much like her, to capture and to tantalise, for what else could be a silent lure but for such a golden mare as she? a toss of her head sent cornsilk tresses falling, falling, waves of ichor. o, but it was beautiful, was it not? eyes that were not-quite-green and not-quite-brown flitted over tranquil surroundings - the whisperings of the water and her own hooves disturbing immaculate sand as she went. she had not an inkling of bad news, for the sun would come and go, as it always did. she pranced with light steps, nearing a stream of lazy river, the salty tang of ocean squirming in the innocent clarity the stream beheld. and so, with one chocolate shoe she tested the waters, and sighed as a feeling of tremendous relief came to her; the air seemed much more suffocating when one could feel the cold water tickling hocks. the narrow strait was quite shallow, it seemed, with a straightforward current. and slowly, as if to not disturb the sea-creatures flitting below, ( but of course they fled ) she submerged herself in the rushing fluid, her delicately arched neck escaping sprays of water. ah! how good it was! refreshing, almost, with the cold seeping in warm flank and the telltale flashes of fish traveling between hooves. she felt, unburdened, the weight of air leaving her shoulders, and it was then that she realised how weary she was. with heavy-lidded eyes, she let herself ease into a little slumber.
