Venomiss
Meta-Magic Eight Ball
It was a peaceful spring morning in the great mountains of Fion. The snow had just finished melting, converting into the nurturing waters the flora truly needed. Old man winter had finally released his tight grip upon the region, allowing the many plants and animals to replenish. Flowers of many hues began to bloom, advertising their beautiful colors for nectar-seeking insects. Leaves started to decorate the once-bare trees, much to the herbivore's delight.
Although the forest seemed joyous for the return of the foliage, a solemn song rang through the trees. A beautiful, yet strange looking woman sat in a lone tree in the center of a lush meadow. The sad song came from a carved wooden flute resting in her delicate fingers and pursed lips. All about her, a small herd of unicorns grazed in a sorrow-filled silence.
The woman herself looked much like the equine that surrounded her. Although her upper body was primarily human in shape, her legs were shaped much like a horse's and lined with a soft, white fur. Instead of feet, her lets ended in two black cloven hooves. Her skin was incredibly pale, like that of the unicorn's ivory fur, and her hair fell straight in the same colorless shade. Emerging from her bangs was a long, spiraled golden horn.
She was the last of the unicorn people, born with the purpose of protecting the delicate creatures that surrounded her. Only days before, humans had slain her entire family and enslaved many of the last remaining unicorn herd. The woman had been lucky enough to get away, with seven equine from the herd at her heels. The horse clan had been kind enough to allow the small herd onto it's protected territory, as they saw advantages to their mysterious healing abilities during the great clan war.
Now she sat with the last of her magnificent race surrounding her, playing a sad tune in dedication to her fallen brothers and sisters. Her lavender eyes peeled open as she played, watching the trees sway in the spring breeze. It was if they were dancing to her song. As a single tear fell down her cheek, she removed the flute from her ruby lips.
Her gaze, shining like amethysts, scanned the seven remaining unicorns. They had lost much of their families too, along with their home which the humans had converted to some kind of farm used to enslave nature's creatures for their own greed. She released an exasperated sigh then returned the flute to her lips, deciding now to play a more uplifting song, as to cheer herself and the herd. Hopefully they'd forget the recent tragedy, if only for a moment.
Although the forest seemed joyous for the return of the foliage, a solemn song rang through the trees. A beautiful, yet strange looking woman sat in a lone tree in the center of a lush meadow. The sad song came from a carved wooden flute resting in her delicate fingers and pursed lips. All about her, a small herd of unicorns grazed in a sorrow-filled silence.
The woman herself looked much like the equine that surrounded her. Although her upper body was primarily human in shape, her legs were shaped much like a horse's and lined with a soft, white fur. Instead of feet, her lets ended in two black cloven hooves. Her skin was incredibly pale, like that of the unicorn's ivory fur, and her hair fell straight in the same colorless shade. Emerging from her bangs was a long, spiraled golden horn.
She was the last of the unicorn people, born with the purpose of protecting the delicate creatures that surrounded her. Only days before, humans had slain her entire family and enslaved many of the last remaining unicorn herd. The woman had been lucky enough to get away, with seven equine from the herd at her heels. The horse clan had been kind enough to allow the small herd onto it's protected territory, as they saw advantages to their mysterious healing abilities during the great clan war.
Now she sat with the last of her magnificent race surrounding her, playing a sad tune in dedication to her fallen brothers and sisters. Her lavender eyes peeled open as she played, watching the trees sway in the spring breeze. It was if they were dancing to her song. As a single tear fell down her cheek, she removed the flute from her ruby lips.
Her gaze, shining like amethysts, scanned the seven remaining unicorns. They had lost much of their families too, along with their home which the humans had converted to some kind of farm used to enslave nature's creatures for their own greed. She released an exasperated sigh then returned the flute to her lips, deciding now to play a more uplifting song, as to cheer herself and the herd. Hopefully they'd forget the recent tragedy, if only for a moment.