01-18-2019, 01:36 AM
Ophanim
Starsin has been so busy lately, whispering in the mad king’s ear and instigating entire wars within Beqanna. He wants to trail behind her like a lost duckling but he knows he would only distract her from her work. Ophanim allows himself to fade into the background for now, wandering until she is ready for him once again. These aimless strolls have brought him to the meadow where the spring rains have made a mess of things. Mud sticks to the light feathering around his ankles but the sun occasionally peaks out to reflect off the brilliant gold patches of his body. He’s managed to turn the upper half of his body to scales to keep the rain off him for the most part, while his tender underbelly remains vulnerable.
But he has no enemies in this life just yet.
Ophanim has never had a reason to fear as others do.
He extends his wings and lets his scales consume them until they are draconic in appearance. The golden eyes that line the underside of the wings glow even in the shade of the appendages. Ophanim sighs slowly as his body begins to soak up the warmth available beneath the spring sun. The largest snow mounds still linger defiantly in the corners of the meadow but he doesn’t seem too bothered by the last signs of the dead winter.
The angel boy moves forward, wondering if his mother ever found somewhere safe to hide until the plague retreated. Somewhere in the depths of him, he’s finally begun to miss seeing her face each morning. His wings slowly fold halfway against his sides to act as an umbrella for the time being. Ophanim’s bright blue eyes search across the meadow for something to occupy him for the time being, but everyone seems so preoccupied already. He does his best to keep the faint smile curled across his lips as he waits patiently.
Either he’ll find someone to keep him company or Starsin will call him home, he supposes.
But he has no enemies in this life just yet.
Ophanim has never had a reason to fear as others do.
He extends his wings and lets his scales consume them until they are draconic in appearance. The golden eyes that line the underside of the wings glow even in the shade of the appendages. Ophanim sighs slowly as his body begins to soak up the warmth available beneath the spring sun. The largest snow mounds still linger defiantly in the corners of the meadow but he doesn’t seem too bothered by the last signs of the dead winter.
The angel boy moves forward, wondering if his mother ever found somewhere safe to hide until the plague retreated. Somewhere in the depths of him, he’s finally begun to miss seeing her face each morning. His wings slowly fold halfway against his sides to act as an umbrella for the time being. Ophanim’s bright blue eyes search across the meadow for something to occupy him for the time being, but everyone seems so preoccupied already. He does his best to keep the faint smile curled across his lips as he waits patiently.
Either he’ll find someone to keep him company or Starsin will call him home, he supposes.