Faynt
10-30-2008, 09:30 AM
It had been a chilly morning in Tirisfal, her breathing having made swirls of heavy mist. It hung in the air until she walked through it, and then the tendrils of her own life kissed the sides of her face, fading away to nothing. She had worn a long coat, her riding boots, black pants, and her white blouse tied with a black scarf at the collar. The Forsaken at the stables had eyed her oddly, but she paid it no mind. Her eyes had been only on the steed that would someday be hers- a brown mare with eyes that glowed a deep yellow. Fayntira had already made several payments on the undead horse... hopefully, soon, she'd be ready to ride. But not yet. Instead, she spent her early mornings leading it by the dark leather reins around the Glades. Usually there was nothing spectacular about their morning jaunts. But today...
...She could not believe her eyes.
Faynt held out her gloved hand, watching an early snowflake alight on her palm before melting into a small droplet of water. It was followed by another, and another... until there was a small flurry of snow in the deepest reaches of the velvet-dark wood. The sky was covered with sad gray clouds- she could not see dawn's fingers reaching over the horizon. If they were reaching at all.
She felt the snow brush her face like Death's hand, and nearly smiled. She always felt so heavy, so dragged down by the weight of all her responsibilities. Not just for the Madame, but for her love and her honor. Here, in the woods, with the snow flitting around her and the comforting tug of the horse's head on the reins in her hand... there was nothing but joy.
She turned to a gnarled tree branch and tightly knotted the reins about it. A swift pat on the mare's remaining skin and then Faynt was out in the clearing, hands limp at her sides and face turned skyward. Pale ivory skin grew pink at the tip of her nose and flushed at her cheeks. Moonkissed hair collected the snow, the platinum strands flowing down from her complicated updo.
She spread her hands out in front of her to catch the falling snowflakes, the only noise the creak of snow under the horse's hooves as it shifted and her soft breathing.
...She could not believe her eyes.
Faynt held out her gloved hand, watching an early snowflake alight on her palm before melting into a small droplet of water. It was followed by another, and another... until there was a small flurry of snow in the deepest reaches of the velvet-dark wood. The sky was covered with sad gray clouds- she could not see dawn's fingers reaching over the horizon. If they were reaching at all.
She felt the snow brush her face like Death's hand, and nearly smiled. She always felt so heavy, so dragged down by the weight of all her responsibilities. Not just for the Madame, but for her love and her honor. Here, in the woods, with the snow flitting around her and the comforting tug of the horse's head on the reins in her hand... there was nothing but joy.
She turned to a gnarled tree branch and tightly knotted the reins about it. A swift pat on the mare's remaining skin and then Faynt was out in the clearing, hands limp at her sides and face turned skyward. Pale ivory skin grew pink at the tip of her nose and flushed at her cheeks. Moonkissed hair collected the snow, the platinum strands flowing down from her complicated updo.
She spread her hands out in front of her to catch the falling snowflakes, the only noise the creak of snow under the horse's hooves as it shifted and her soft breathing.