[PRP] A Cold Crackle [Lancelot x Baellian]

[ArashiX]

This is an RP between Arashi's Baellian & Uta's Lancelot.

Please do not post.

 

[ArashiX]

Baellian had drifted.

Apparently, like the snow he yet again wandered through, after driving off the mare...was it last year? Or several years ago? Either way... She'd tried to be kind. He just had none of it; besides...she was too kind. And as for him? He was too distrusting to allow anyone close - and even now it was debatable - but at least the snows were once again melting off, and there seemed to be more and more patches of, well, dead grass and mud.

Nothing verdant and vibrant, just yet.

Such a shame.

On both sides, he figured, as normally he quite enjoyed the snow and icy hues that let him meld in with his surroundings, quite often. Aside from the jagged wound that seemed to be reluctant to heal.

His own fault, the stallion mused, his flanks twitching a bit.

Watchful, wary eyes peered out from where he was walking, and he missed the teeny, tiny bit of green that was struggling through the ground and dead grasses to play peek a boo with the sun's rays. The sun, which threw evening shadows and a hefty hue of pinks as it set. Baellian wearily continued on, apparently not about to stop in the open.

And for good reason.

Uta

Huzzahhhhhh I got it done!

 

[Uta]

ArashiX

Lancelot stepped out of the thicket and onto the open plains. There was a chill in the wind, and the stallion couldn't help but quietly bemoan the winter. His flutter wings were still sensitive to the elements, despite their peculiar, smokey, appearance. Unfortunately, there was nothing to be done about it, and he could only hope that thick clouds would overcome the night. The clearer the sky, the colder it would be, and Lancelot wanted none of it.

Stomping through the ice and cold, he kept his head lowered, and let his thoughts whirl through his mind. While the thicket and woods would have been warmer, he also knew that night seemed to wake even more spirits than during the day. The stallion was mostly a nocturnal creature, both by choice and by habit; he'd often stayed awake as a young colt, too terrified to sleep, with ghosts and spirits whispering their secrets in his ears. Thankfully, he preferred the night to the daylight, spirits aside; the stars were always a kind friend to him, and sometimes the moon offered comfort. Tonight, the stallion wanted nothing more than to find assurance within the glowing masses, and to leave the haunted grove behind.

It was early yet, with the sun not quite down. He didn't know where he was going -- it didn't much matter. If he noticed the pale ghostly looking stallion while he crested a small hill, Lancelot said nothing. As far as he could tell, Baellian fit in well with the ghosts and spirits that sometimes haunted his vision. He was more solid looking, but everything else about him seemed to fit the ice world around them. So it was, eyes averted, head lowered, he carried on. Maybe the ghost would pass without comment; maybe he'd disappear as he drew near. Ghosts and spirits were fickle things, but Lancelot reminded himself that they could not really do him harm.

But oh, as he approached, his ears flattened and his anxiety gripped him. He hoped he didn't screa or hiss or generally try to spook him. Maybe, just maybe, this one would drift by without comment.