Desreal: It could mean anyone.

adapt or perish;
now as ever;
is nature`s inexorable imperative;

Rowan can feel the strange element as he draws nearer. Vines coil around her legs, flowers wrapped into her long ivory mane. She looks so youthful, so beautiful. Like a young girl wearing a crown of daisies. Only hers were alive, vibrant, flowers the likes of which none have ever seen. Her golden eyes soften with his apology, but they are still hard. Cold in a calculating, observant sort of way. As if she were rather looking through you, not at you. She waits a moment, and catches his name as it lingers momentarily on the wind. Marshall…interesting. She had heard him and another mare speaking in the river a few moon spans ago. Interesting indeed.

She takes a few steps towards him, the earth shifting beneath her feet, yet no hoof mark is left. As if she were weightless, a ghost, the wraith of the woods. She does not smile, but rather her face softens slightly. Eases into a more serene façade while her earth probes around the stranger. Her ears twitch, listening to an un heard sound.

“The woods forgive you, and therefore I forgive you.”

Her golden eyes lock on his, and it is clear from her expression that this truly is a gift she has given him. Her forgiveness.

“I am Rowan.”

She offers nothing else for there is nothing else to give.

R O W A N

Slv. Zakr x Ap. Aian | Earth III