01-27-2020, 04:38 PM
Wait here, Mother had said, as she had said so many times before, and in that history was the unspoken expectation that she would return, as she had done - every time before. But she hadn't, this time, and as the blue light of early dawn gives way to the golden rays of sunrise, the little black pegasus huffs and ruffles her wings so swiftly that the soft, flightless, feathers almost buzz as they rub together and resettle. Three days. Nerve's soft breath rustles peacefully behind her like leaves, Quietude stands near the shadow of her sleeping brother as he snores, snuggled tight against the roots of the tree Mother tucked them beside. She turns, now, to look at him, and she hates how he sleeps as though their mother hasn't gone.
Above him in the stillness of early morning, the willow fronds hang limp without a wind to blow them. Her lips part as though to speak but no sound passes, no audible sound, but the fronds quake and sway, brushing his nose until he wakes, until with groggy eyes the look at her but do not see, he sneezes a sneeze too loud for such a small creature. It echoes, bouncing off rock and tree, and upsetting a flock of blue jays roosting nearby.
She likes the noisy jays, and looks up at them, grinning.
"I am not mad," she says, stamping one small grey forehoof and screwing up her face into an evocative frown, "I'm hungry." With a frustrated sigh, she walks to where he is still lying against the tree, dropping unceremoniously to the ground so her own long limbs entwine with his. She drapes her neck across his back. "And I'm tired. The crickets were too loud again last night." She hates the crickets as much as she loves the blue jays, their singing stinging her ears as she tries to sleep, and so she hushes them, yet every time she would begin to drift away, she lost control of their voices and they would sing again, chirping brightly all night as though others were not trying to sleep.
Above him in the stillness of early morning, the willow fronds hang limp without a wind to blow them. Her lips part as though to speak but no sound passes, no audible sound, but the fronds quake and sway, brushing his nose until he wakes, until with groggy eyes the look at her but do not see, he sneezes a sneeze too loud for such a small creature. It echoes, bouncing off rock and tree, and upsetting a flock of blue jays roosting nearby.
She likes the noisy jays, and looks up at them, grinning.
"I am not mad," she says, stamping one small grey forehoof and screwing up her face into an evocative frown, "I'm hungry." With a frustrated sigh, she walks to where he is still lying against the tree, dropping unceremoniously to the ground so her own long limbs entwine with his. She drapes her neck across his back. "And I'm tired. The crickets were too loud again last night." She hates the crickets as much as she loves the blue jays, their singing stinging her ears as she tries to sleep, and so she hushes them, yet every time she would begin to drift away, she lost control of their voices and they would sing again, chirping brightly all night as though others were not trying to sleep.
Quietude
.the sound of silence.
@[Nerve]