04-03-2010, 03:54 PM
ooc: Tis raining in the evening. Please avoid really short posts.
This was spring.
A time rid of the snow and encouraged the blossom of flora to spring forth and paint the world something new. To an extent, the liked spring. It was the only season that did not remind her of the tundra that lied to the far, far North. It was the only season that did not resurface memories of home. But how she was plagued by the relentless torrent of emotions that spring surfaced, much like the flowers that sprang from the earth, she too became anew with sensation and emotions she thought to never experience again. Yet with each roll into spring, she found this to be wrong. And how she suffered in a wonderful way.
But the day of flora sniffing and wandering was dampened by darkening clouds, by the patter of rain as it trickled from the smothering skies and progressed to torrents most rigorously. It was as though the heavens cried with the loss of the calming season and mourned what would be the loss of many fodder to come. Twas the price of the giving season.
A russet form waltzed amidst the thundering skies, without care, without need of shelter to keep from nature’s tears. She was quite content underneath the weeping clouds…in fact, the dame smiled, for the first time in a long time. Given this transition of the season, she took this washing as a sign for something new to unfold. This cleanse would be the rebirth she sought for and was encouraged to pursue. She would take this as a wondrous sign if only for an evening, before the clouds parted and the morning sky returned… Before she was forced to recall the past again and re-attain this need for rebirth.
Crimson locks stuck to a slender muzzle as it ascended to the heavens calmly. Serenity enveloped the once haggard face and a delicate smile came to drenched lips.
Yes. This would be a new beginning.
This was spring.
A time rid of the snow and encouraged the blossom of flora to spring forth and paint the world something new. To an extent, the liked spring. It was the only season that did not remind her of the tundra that lied to the far, far North. It was the only season that did not resurface memories of home. But how she was plagued by the relentless torrent of emotions that spring surfaced, much like the flowers that sprang from the earth, she too became anew with sensation and emotions she thought to never experience again. Yet with each roll into spring, she found this to be wrong. And how she suffered in a wonderful way.
But the day of flora sniffing and wandering was dampened by darkening clouds, by the patter of rain as it trickled from the smothering skies and progressed to torrents most rigorously. It was as though the heavens cried with the loss of the calming season and mourned what would be the loss of many fodder to come. Twas the price of the giving season.
A russet form waltzed amidst the thundering skies, without care, without need of shelter to keep from nature’s tears. She was quite content underneath the weeping clouds…in fact, the dame smiled, for the first time in a long time. Given this transition of the season, she took this washing as a sign for something new to unfold. This cleanse would be the rebirth she sought for and was encouraged to pursue. She would take this as a wondrous sign if only for an evening, before the clouds parted and the morning sky returned… Before she was forced to recall the past again and re-attain this need for rebirth.
Crimson locks stuck to a slender muzzle as it ascended to the heavens calmly. Serenity enveloped the once haggard face and a delicate smile came to drenched lips.
Yes. This would be a new beginning.