02-28-2017, 08:56 PM
Burnt lurks;
She has her wings back and they smoke and smolder against her sides, trailing the small burned-out stars of embers at every step - every shuffle of feather against feather. It feels good to have some aspect of her former glorious self restored though she still lacks the ability to pilfer through and push thoughts in other brains; it is a sore spot for her that she cannot claim her telepathic birthright but must grovel and beg for it back. In the end, she knows that she will humble herself before the Mountain’s magics and masters in order to regain this part of her that remains just out of reach, like the stars on high that she can almost touch with lips and wingtips when she is buoyed up by the thermals and the strong muscles of her back.
For now, she is landlocked and lurking.
Lurking after her mother, not that Sinew proves to be elusive but rather that she is a lawless one and keeping after requires more attention than Burnt cares to invest in the matter. They had severed the cord of need for one another a long time ago and she only comes because of the rumor of brothers - half-brothers, but siblings to her just the same. It makes her curious that Sinew has bred again, and birthed not one but two - twins, to some stallion that calls himself king and has a strange command over her mother that Burnt cannot pry into because she lacks her unique gift of delving into the pink-gray wormy landscape of brains (not dissimilar from the way the gift-giver delves into their fears).
Burnt walks when she could otherwise fly; her feet must learn these cracked and broken paths of Pangea. Why, she could not say except that if it is their home, it might as well be hers’ too - until she finds elsewhere to accompany her sense of storm and spirit, like the gray of her eyes, pale and electric. She catches sight of one of the colts (he bears the stamp of Sinew’s get - they all do, in some fey and feral way) as he disappears into a dark space between the sandstone cliffs into what she presumes is none other than a cave. Clever, she thinks, not entirely sure if the colt is just that - clever, or trying to hide from the rest of them. She follows him into it, trailing behind on the cusp of grunts and groans and death-rattles. How has Sinew managed to make this frail sick thing that lies in the cool dust of the cavern? What afflicts him must be terrible indeed!
Pity climbs up to sit thick and dumb in her mouth, keeps it mute as she stares at him.
All the while, feathers jostle feathers and embers rain down on the sandstone floor. She takes no care to spare him from the occasional cherry-red speck that lands near him (maybe even on him) and smolders out of existence beside his own passing mortality. He could die at any moment, she thinks, still staring. Then slowly, she kneels down beside him until she rests on her own belly and folded legs, her wings pulled up close to her body and away from his lest he should catch afire and burn up like yesterday’s old pile of straw.
“Why are you this way?” she asks him, divulging nothing of herself for the time being.
Burnt has always liked her secrets.
She has her wings back and they smoke and smolder against her sides, trailing the small burned-out stars of embers at every step - every shuffle of feather against feather. It feels good to have some aspect of her former glorious self restored though she still lacks the ability to pilfer through and push thoughts in other brains; it is a sore spot for her that she cannot claim her telepathic birthright but must grovel and beg for it back. In the end, she knows that she will humble herself before the Mountain’s magics and masters in order to regain this part of her that remains just out of reach, like the stars on high that she can almost touch with lips and wingtips when she is buoyed up by the thermals and the strong muscles of her back.
For now, she is landlocked and lurking.
Lurking after her mother, not that Sinew proves to be elusive but rather that she is a lawless one and keeping after requires more attention than Burnt cares to invest in the matter. They had severed the cord of need for one another a long time ago and she only comes because of the rumor of brothers - half-brothers, but siblings to her just the same. It makes her curious that Sinew has bred again, and birthed not one but two - twins, to some stallion that calls himself king and has a strange command over her mother that Burnt cannot pry into because she lacks her unique gift of delving into the pink-gray wormy landscape of brains (not dissimilar from the way the gift-giver delves into their fears).
Burnt walks when she could otherwise fly; her feet must learn these cracked and broken paths of Pangea. Why, she could not say except that if it is their home, it might as well be hers’ too - until she finds elsewhere to accompany her sense of storm and spirit, like the gray of her eyes, pale and electric. She catches sight of one of the colts (he bears the stamp of Sinew’s get - they all do, in some fey and feral way) as he disappears into a dark space between the sandstone cliffs into what she presumes is none other than a cave. Clever, she thinks, not entirely sure if the colt is just that - clever, or trying to hide from the rest of them. She follows him into it, trailing behind on the cusp of grunts and groans and death-rattles. How has Sinew managed to make this frail sick thing that lies in the cool dust of the cavern? What afflicts him must be terrible indeed!
Pity climbs up to sit thick and dumb in her mouth, keeps it mute as she stares at him.
All the while, feathers jostle feathers and embers rain down on the sandstone floor. She takes no care to spare him from the occasional cherry-red speck that lands near him (maybe even on him) and smolders out of existence beside his own passing mortality. He could die at any moment, she thinks, still staring. Then slowly, she kneels down beside him until she rests on her own belly and folded legs, her wings pulled up close to her body and away from his lest he should catch afire and burn up like yesterday’s old pile of straw.
“Why are you this way?” she asks him, divulging nothing of herself for the time being.
Burnt has always liked her secrets.
[ooc: she wanted to come out and play with her little half-brother lol <333]