Post by mewmehh on Aug 17, 2018 2:17:13 GMT
The winds were soft and sweet, carrying with them the delicate wonders of unnamed flowers and other complex oddities as they drifted pass the temperate green waters of a scrawling river; rather, a thin trickle awash with the hues of the verdant earth cradling it both carefully and loosely. The sky painted in golden rays of afternoon met with the amber stretch of evening, a contradiction of the time and place as the gentle warmth of a Newleaf, or perhaps Leaffall, day graced the place despite the actuality of the world's season. What a queer place, with its wayward emerald stream and marmalade skies thought a small visitor as her pearly, wisping curls flounced against the long grass with unbridled curiosity.
Wingedpaw had been caught unawares of her placing as she padded through the pleasant territory, her mind completely fuzzy and senses all a mess, yet never having felt more comfortable in her life. Opaline eyes gleamed beneath low-hanging lids, her whiskers like thin blades of ice as they trembled, catching the amber light. She was enamored with the unfamiliar land, where mint-flavored tendrils traced her tongue invisibly and tempted her further along the riverside in her daze. Yet, the white Ivyclan apprentice seemed to retain enough sense as to limit how far she tread, lest she wind up in a less savory place. Instead, she found complacency in studying the faint rippling of the lazy river current, slight spirals and other swirling patterns particularly catching her eyes. An odd thought of wishing she knew how to swim flitted through her head, a notion she likely would have never pondered before had it not been for the strange motions of the glassy surface.
Pulling away from her wiggling reflect, the albino she-cat glanced afar as thin trees sprouted in the distance. Although, they were the weirdest trees the Ivyclan cat had ever laid eyes on. Instead of bushy tufts of leaves adorning their tops, fewer larger leaves draped off from the tree’s top, fanning out with their flatness facing the sky. They almost looked like flowers to the cat, but were far too tall and made of pale yellow and green petals, transparent like ice. And yet, they didn’t melt in the glow of the sun. Wingedpaw quirked up an eyebrow, looking hard in their direction before her long pelt of silken curls flared up, another scent washing over her in full. It wasn’t a familiar one, but it was one she knew of, something not of this odd place. Spinning around to taste the fragrant air in order to the trace the newcomer, Wingedpaw’s rosy eyes scanned the orange and green expanse, catching a glimpse of equally snowy fur clashing against the backdrop.
KingHarry
Wingedpaw had been caught unawares of her placing as she padded through the pleasant territory, her mind completely fuzzy and senses all a mess, yet never having felt more comfortable in her life. Opaline eyes gleamed beneath low-hanging lids, her whiskers like thin blades of ice as they trembled, catching the amber light. She was enamored with the unfamiliar land, where mint-flavored tendrils traced her tongue invisibly and tempted her further along the riverside in her daze. Yet, the white Ivyclan apprentice seemed to retain enough sense as to limit how far she tread, lest she wind up in a less savory place. Instead, she found complacency in studying the faint rippling of the lazy river current, slight spirals and other swirling patterns particularly catching her eyes. An odd thought of wishing she knew how to swim flitted through her head, a notion she likely would have never pondered before had it not been for the strange motions of the glassy surface.
Pulling away from her wiggling reflect, the albino she-cat glanced afar as thin trees sprouted in the distance. Although, they were the weirdest trees the Ivyclan cat had ever laid eyes on. Instead of bushy tufts of leaves adorning their tops, fewer larger leaves draped off from the tree’s top, fanning out with their flatness facing the sky. They almost looked like flowers to the cat, but were far too tall and made of pale yellow and green petals, transparent like ice. And yet, they didn’t melt in the glow of the sun. Wingedpaw quirked up an eyebrow, looking hard in their direction before her long pelt of silken curls flared up, another scent washing over her in full. It wasn’t a familiar one, but it was one she knew of, something not of this odd place. Spinning around to taste the fragrant air in order to the trace the newcomer, Wingedpaw’s rosy eyes scanned the orange and green expanse, catching a glimpse of equally snowy fur clashing against the backdrop.
KingHarry