Post by Sirel on Oct 26, 2015 7:00:03 GMT
Sirel somehow always ended up wandering when the late night began to slip into the morning, but for now, it was only dusk. The sun had recently sunk below the horizon, its golden glow beginning to fade at the corner of the sky as star scattered blue deepened around it. The dark hued mare sat alone at the end of an empty dock, the high winds of the drop off sweeping her lengthy mane into the air, messy strands curling into her face often until she dismissed them with a quick glow of magic or a brush of her hoof. This dock was without a ship, but others surrounding held the ropes of massive, finely crafted ones, their sails secured tightly to prevent their grand forms from crushing forward. It was amazing how they remained so steady in the air. She preferred to sit at the docks of an ocean, but this was peaceful as well.. perhaps the coast would be her next area to drift towards. After all, she had been in Canterlot for over a month now, and was beginning to grow restless once more. Her green eyes fell from the looming ships at the other docks to the far off land below her dangling back hooves. The airship docks were thousands of feet above sea-level. Canterlot itself was built into the side of a mountain; the thought of falling was chilling. Not enough to deter her sitting so close to the edge. Hey, don't they have any pegasi watching out anyway? She turned, scanning both sides of her, seeing none. No skin off my back.
The sounds of raucous sailor ponies in dusty nearby inns and cheap restaurants seeped into the evening as the day's hustle began to diminish. The density of the ponies outside had already lessened greatly, as most had moved indoors to fill their bellies and spill their tales. There were none of high status barking orders or families greeting their own after long travels. Only sometimes would her ears twitch at the sound of thudding hooves on wooden planks behind her, the clanking of a bell to signal the arrival of a ship, creaks and slams of the shoddily built taverns, or the cavernous rolling or sloshing of a cider barrel in or out the back doors of them.
The mare smiled and closed her eyes, long lashes tickling her cheeks gently as she turned her muzzle into the wind's caress. The evening was surprisingly warm, despite its proximity to winter.
The sounds of raucous sailor ponies in dusty nearby inns and cheap restaurants seeped into the evening as the day's hustle began to diminish. The density of the ponies outside had already lessened greatly, as most had moved indoors to fill their bellies and spill their tales. There were none of high status barking orders or families greeting their own after long travels. Only sometimes would her ears twitch at the sound of thudding hooves on wooden planks behind her, the clanking of a bell to signal the arrival of a ship, creaks and slams of the shoddily built taverns, or the cavernous rolling or sloshing of a cider barrel in or out the back doors of them.
The mare smiled and closed her eyes, long lashes tickling her cheeks gently as she turned her muzzle into the wind's caress. The evening was surprisingly warm, despite its proximity to winter.