Post by Delicious on Mar 23, 2009 3:46:34 GMT -5
Characters: Epione, Cecily
Characters not already committed to the Ulysses' Odyssey are welcome, with approval - please PM first <3.
Time: Harvest Festival, Morning After
Setting: Kalidore & Outskirts of Flagstaff AZ
Purpose: To introduce Epione to her companion and shepherd both back to Kalidore.
The morning after the harvest festival found the sky a brisk robin's egg blue, dotted only with the occasional powder puff cloud, and complete with a merry sun just cresting over the horizon. Once arisen, the morning sun lost no time in brushing all of Kalidore with it's soft, warming light; taking great care to wake the sleeping isle with a sunbeam's kindly caress, and the soft sigh of the wind. Soon, the open plains and glades glowed under the attention, alive with movement and greenery that stretched and lifted faces to the sky to smile a cheerful good morning.
The darker nooks and crannies, however, still slept soundly swaddled in their shadows - untouched by the daylight. This idleness, however, did not go unnoticed - and the sun, upon finishing with the open lands, turned its attention to these dusky valleys and shaded dens. The sunlight dappled warmly through the leaves of the Kaledon forest, trickling through the thick foliage to alight on a gnarled branch, or broad green leaf. As the sun rose in the sky, the trickle slowly grew in brightness, and soon all was flooded in a warm glow that filtered through even the densest growth.
Despite the insistent light that tugged at the corners of her eyelids, it wasn't the morning sun that woke Epione from her twisted heap on the forest floor, but rather the shrill chidings of an angry Kaldorian squirrel. This in itself was not particularly out of the ordinary - while the typical morning after an excess of debauchery lent itself to a wide range of backdrops, the sound of yelling or muttering or SOME sort of angry sound was generally fairly consistent. The mare cracked open one eyelid, and muzzily tried to focus on the small fuzzy creature.
This small movement, however, had the undesirable effect of rousing the squirrel to even louder condemnations. Epione winced at the noise. "Ergh. You horrid little beast. Just ... just ...quiet please." She rasped, barely able to force the words over her swollen tongue, and cotton-dry mouth. Her pleas landed on deaf ears, and the squirrel only bounded closer - chattering up a storm. Epione groaned, and worked to untangle her legs enough to rise - wanting to put some small amount of distance between her and the small obnoxious fuzzball.
After a few abortive attempts, and stumbling over own hooves no less than five times, Epione finally made it to her feet - tottering over to lean heavily against the velveted side of a moss-covered tree while she waited for the rest of the world to stop spinning. The squirrel, quieted momentarily to dash under the chocolate mare's feet, scuffling at small pile of loose dirt to uncover a rather large acorn. Prize in hand, it raced away and up the trunk of a nearby tree, stopping to snipe a few more choice curses in it's shrill squirrel tongue before scrambling out of sight between the glossy green leaves and gnarled branches of a large, spreading oak.
Epione stared, expression blank and impassive, at the spot left by the now vacated squirrel for several moments before finally closing her eyes with a heavy sigh. "Of all the silly, nonsensical things to wake a person for..." she groused. "Can't wait for a person to wake up, oh no, have to have the acorn NOW. Never mind the fact that it's quite possible that the head of said person might very possibly fall OFF as a result." Epione complained aloud, "Och, my aching head. Must ...remember ... next time ... two bushels ... definitely ... my limit." She groaned, having found that the spinning had ceased, but was unhappily replaced with a pounding headache that seemed to send pulses of pain in short, painful bursts that traveled from muzzle to tail-tip and back again.
"Death. Death is good. Yes, someone....?" She called to the forest around her, not actually expecting an answer. "If you're out there ... you can kill me now. Just ... feed my poor aching head to the beetles. S'okay, truly ... t'would be a grand favor!" Her ears perked, if a bit askew, as she hoped half-heartedly for an answer to her pleas.
Characters not already committed to the Ulysses' Odyssey are welcome, with approval - please PM first <3.
Time: Harvest Festival, Morning After
Setting: Kalidore & Outskirts of Flagstaff AZ
Purpose: To introduce Epione to her companion and shepherd both back to Kalidore.
***
The morning after the harvest festival found the sky a brisk robin's egg blue, dotted only with the occasional powder puff cloud, and complete with a merry sun just cresting over the horizon. Once arisen, the morning sun lost no time in brushing all of Kalidore with it's soft, warming light; taking great care to wake the sleeping isle with a sunbeam's kindly caress, and the soft sigh of the wind. Soon, the open plains and glades glowed under the attention, alive with movement and greenery that stretched and lifted faces to the sky to smile a cheerful good morning.
The darker nooks and crannies, however, still slept soundly swaddled in their shadows - untouched by the daylight. This idleness, however, did not go unnoticed - and the sun, upon finishing with the open lands, turned its attention to these dusky valleys and shaded dens. The sunlight dappled warmly through the leaves of the Kaledon forest, trickling through the thick foliage to alight on a gnarled branch, or broad green leaf. As the sun rose in the sky, the trickle slowly grew in brightness, and soon all was flooded in a warm glow that filtered through even the densest growth.
Despite the insistent light that tugged at the corners of her eyelids, it wasn't the morning sun that woke Epione from her twisted heap on the forest floor, but rather the shrill chidings of an angry Kaldorian squirrel. This in itself was not particularly out of the ordinary - while the typical morning after an excess of debauchery lent itself to a wide range of backdrops, the sound of yelling or muttering or SOME sort of angry sound was generally fairly consistent. The mare cracked open one eyelid, and muzzily tried to focus on the small fuzzy creature.
This small movement, however, had the undesirable effect of rousing the squirrel to even louder condemnations. Epione winced at the noise. "Ergh. You horrid little beast. Just ... just ...quiet please." She rasped, barely able to force the words over her swollen tongue, and cotton-dry mouth. Her pleas landed on deaf ears, and the squirrel only bounded closer - chattering up a storm. Epione groaned, and worked to untangle her legs enough to rise - wanting to put some small amount of distance between her and the small obnoxious fuzzball.
After a few abortive attempts, and stumbling over own hooves no less than five times, Epione finally made it to her feet - tottering over to lean heavily against the velveted side of a moss-covered tree while she waited for the rest of the world to stop spinning. The squirrel, quieted momentarily to dash under the chocolate mare's feet, scuffling at small pile of loose dirt to uncover a rather large acorn. Prize in hand, it raced away and up the trunk of a nearby tree, stopping to snipe a few more choice curses in it's shrill squirrel tongue before scrambling out of sight between the glossy green leaves and gnarled branches of a large, spreading oak.
Epione stared, expression blank and impassive, at the spot left by the now vacated squirrel for several moments before finally closing her eyes with a heavy sigh. "Of all the silly, nonsensical things to wake a person for..." she groused. "Can't wait for a person to wake up, oh no, have to have the acorn NOW. Never mind the fact that it's quite possible that the head of said person might very possibly fall OFF as a result." Epione complained aloud, "Och, my aching head. Must ...remember ... next time ... two bushels ... definitely ... my limit." She groaned, having found that the spinning had ceased, but was unhappily replaced with a pounding headache that seemed to send pulses of pain in short, painful bursts that traveled from muzzle to tail-tip and back again.
"Death. Death is good. Yes, someone....?" She called to the forest around her, not actually expecting an answer. "If you're out there ... you can kill me now. Just ... feed my poor aching head to the beetles. S'okay, truly ... t'would be a grand favor!" Her ears perked, if a bit askew, as she hoped half-heartedly for an answer to her pleas.