Dark Road
.::: ..:.

April 2008
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Back March 12th, 2008 Forward
In The Beginning--Allfrost, in the Carriage

The windows within the carriage were just beginning to frost over, small streaky fingers of ice creeping across the strong weathered glass. Inside, the air was even chillier than the winds being whipped in by the storm front.

And one of its occupants, at least, seemed fairly content with this state of affairs.

Sitting languid against grey silk cushions, wrapped in white furs and expensive lace, was a young woman of breathtaking beauty--so grave and serene she might have been mistaken for a life-sized doll, if not for the faint puffs of breath that moved past her parted lips. Her silvery hair, immaculately swept up into a simple chignon, glinted under the faint interior lights. Every now and then her pale fingers grazed over the pages of a book held in her lap, tracing the edges of illustrations or illuminated words.

"It's a little warm in here," she murmured eventually, in a low, sweet voice. "But I suppose I'll survive until our next stop. Which, by the way, I had thought we would reach before dark."

In the Beginning

Despite the bleak and dreary conditions, it seems travel is the order of the day. Lagging behind the carriage is a stolid, feminine figure. Not privy to the convenience of a coach or other means of travel, she makes her way through the inclement weather the best she can on foot.

The tattered hem of her hooded cloak and worn leather boots, as mired as they were with mud, were both indicative of a quiet resignation to the indignities of life on the road. Even with the rain tumbling down in an almost endless rhythm she continues on steadfastly, each seemingly delicate foot placed one in front of the other in the track left behind the vehicle--an easy way to not only keep track of the road in the thick fog, but also to keep her boots from becoming further encumbered.

They were not together, the carriage and her, but the traveler is perfectly happy to follow the path laid out before her until a better one presented itself. Even the sound of the cyborg horses, distant and muffled by the downpour as they were, were some comfort in a land where just breathing could be dangerous. And with nightfall's uncertain approach, there was always more safety in numbers.

Current Mood: resigned
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