The Academy: as it would fall *

Apathy, it is what she greets him with. Her chimerical face a pallet of blankness; her mismatched eyes dull and faded, the red veins and fatigue in her countenance. She’d give him a single glance, and only a simple nod of her head—“Hello,” her voice so suddenly cuts the air, followed by a mirthless smile. Those strange eyes watch and linger, her body no different, sluggish and lethargic- completely lackadaisical.
She’d walk but a few steps before stopping, her observations quietly placating a wary and tired mind. “Pardon my lack of impression,” she says with a robotic sort of purr; “I have a bad case of mood poisoning.” She snickers, turning her head away and looking back, her teeth clicking once before she yawns. “It must have been something I hate.” She shifts her weight.
But, the chimera-mare perks up, her body taking a slightly straighter position, her cygnet neck curling her head to her bosom. The curves of her body shifting as she moves her positions around, taking a few steps passed him and stretching, before glancing at the pillars not too far off. The watery sparkles in the distance intrigue her, but it is the earth which begs; and so she turns her head. Her eyes flicker between saturated and vivid colors; her appearance brightening at least a bit.
She is no storm, no misty dream, instead she just is. A physical manifestation with no appearance other then what you see, a mare- whose gray-black body has no shine or pride, whose face is painted half white and whose eyes are two very different colors. She was smaller in height, around 15.2 hands or so, possibly some form of Arabian and Draft mixture, compact, graceful, and curvy- with slightly stockier legs. she just was, no aura or dreamy appearance, however the right side of her beheld the scar. A dark shard buried beneath her flesh, it’s swollen ridges had grown black, and dried red blood lingered, a rose.

She remarks nothing more, except that, well—“I am, she,” a pause, a breath and a quick grin, “Elemmírë.” Her head turns and she looks to the sinking sun, vines wrapping around her feet, around Shannon’s feet- the earth is screaming.