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 Posted: Thu Jun 13, 2013 1:21 am
 The skies were growing darker. At first the prospect of flying through a storm brought exhilaration to a mare with a pale blue, almost icy, looking coat. Her pale tresses were caught up by the breezes before being released almost as abruptly to fall limply against her neck. Abnormally large wings were tucked tightly against her side as striking blue eyes scanned the horizon. Lightning reflected in the mare's gaze as she gently unfurled each wing. Surely with her impressive wingspan she could outrun this storm without even trying hard.
Without much of a second thought the mare hurled herself out into the abyss thrusting her wings out to the side and trusting in her ability to navigate such rough skies. Was it folly that drove the mare forward? Or was something else at play. Life and limb would be risked flying into a storm of such magnitude as the mare would soon find out.
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Posted: Thu Jun 13, 2013 1:37 am
A stain of blue on the lush, green grass painted a strange image. A mare that was seemingly broken at the whims of Mother Nature. Consciousness returned slowly to the mare as slow as molasses spilled onto an even surface. The sensation of multiple contusions had a groan passing through the mare's lips as she fought to regain full awareness. Her wings lay flat on either side. It was with a stiff jerking motion that she began to assess that her flying prowess had landed her in this condition. Torn from her home in an act that one could call stupidity she had severed the last ties to the place where dreams of the naive were ruthlessly crushed.
Those same icy blue eyes finally opened with enough awareness to realize that she had escaped one nightmare only to be thrown into another. The nightmare she now lived in was that of finding herself in a strange land. The snow and ice of home had been replaced with lush fields of green. Just where exactly had the storm blown her?
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Posted: Thu Jun 13, 2013 9:07 pm
The grass at least was edible. Illyria still was unsure as to where the winds of the storm had blown her. The mare ducked her head gently in an attempt to bring a semblance of order to her mane. She was busy scanning the area around her as well. This land was strange. There seemed to be none of the ice and snow that had populated the land she had escaped from. Experimentally the mare flexed her wings and caught sight of the identifying mark of the royal line that she came from. It settled on the inside joint of one of her wings. Illyria gave a quiet sigh. There was still proof of what she was if one had come looking. Was there a way that she could cover the mark?
Illyria's brief exercise allowed the mare to realize that her wings were still functional and would be able to continue flying when she felt a little better.
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