02-12-2010, 06:56 PM
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Notes: Set at Shiloh Hills just beyond Crimson Dreams.
WC: 344~
Surprisingly, the sky had relented from its ivory onslaught for the moments, leaving the heavens to recharge before another flurry was launched onto Nova Scotia. These days, clouds constantly swirled above the land, darker than the crystalline powder that settled on top of the hardened soil. As the cold seeped into the soil, so it seeped into the bones of the wolves who roamed the lands, winter snatching at the living warmth and drawing it into the core. Most beings considered winter as a soul-sucking season, the dark stain that lingered between fall and spring.
Ghita was indifferent to the weather; each season presented its own unique temperatures, advantages and disadvantages. No season truly could hide her distinct pelt from suspecting prey; She stuck out like a sore thumb in winter (unless surrounded by dead brush) and in fall, the auburns doing nothing to conceal her silver-tipped brown pelt she wore on her back. Spring and summer were too bright, green and lush in their nature lending no mercy to the huntress.
Her shoulder blades rose and fell as Ghita padded forward, a small shadow compared to the world around. Skin was pulled taut over bones and muscles, exposing them where the fur couldn't cover. The muscles stretched and released as weight was transferred from left to right, tranquility echoing through the snow.
Turquoise optics surveyed the indistinguishable land around her, the fae unsure whether she had crossed over into her homeland quite yet. The day was young, although one could barely tell for the cloud cover that had settled on the shoulders of the forest. So it was a wonder as to why the fae was returning home as opposed to leaving, the only key piece of information lending any insight being the hare who had fallen prey to the huntress' keen jaws. Eager to return the piece of food to Crimson Dreams before heading out once more, Ghita was all too wise to the fact that other loners or predators were wanting of food - it was winter, after all.
Notes: Set at Shiloh Hills just beyond Crimson Dreams.
WC: 344~
Surprisingly, the sky had relented from its ivory onslaught for the moments, leaving the heavens to recharge before another flurry was launched onto Nova Scotia. These days, clouds constantly swirled above the land, darker than the crystalline powder that settled on top of the hardened soil. As the cold seeped into the soil, so it seeped into the bones of the wolves who roamed the lands, winter snatching at the living warmth and drawing it into the core. Most beings considered winter as a soul-sucking season, the dark stain that lingered between fall and spring.
Ghita was indifferent to the weather; each season presented its own unique temperatures, advantages and disadvantages. No season truly could hide her distinct pelt from suspecting prey; She stuck out like a sore thumb in winter (unless surrounded by dead brush) and in fall, the auburns doing nothing to conceal her silver-tipped brown pelt she wore on her back. Spring and summer were too bright, green and lush in their nature lending no mercy to the huntress.
Her shoulder blades rose and fell as Ghita padded forward, a small shadow compared to the world around. Skin was pulled taut over bones and muscles, exposing them where the fur couldn't cover. The muscles stretched and released as weight was transferred from left to right, tranquility echoing through the snow.
Turquoise optics surveyed the indistinguishable land around her, the fae unsure whether she had crossed over into her homeland quite yet. The day was young, although one could barely tell for the cloud cover that had settled on the shoulders of the forest. So it was a wonder as to why the fae was returning home as opposed to leaving, the only key piece of information lending any insight being the hare who had fallen prey to the huntress' keen jaws. Eager to return the piece of food to Crimson Dreams before heading out once more, Ghita was all too wise to the fact that other loners or predators were wanting of food - it was winter, after all.