12-10-2020, 07:47 PM
She had spent the morning among the birds in the sky, daring herself to fly higher than the clouds, higher than even the mountain tops in those hulking faraway places across the horizon. But her enthusiasm was no match for her ability yet, and though she had managed to climb to great heights on those broad, dark wings, she had not managed to fly higher than the highest peaks of the earth itself. Yet. But isn’t all success built upon the foundations of failure, all achievement carved from the ruins of every mistake you’ve ever made? She is certain of it.
There is a wanderlust in her heart that never lets her rest, an ache and a curiosity rooted so deeply in her chest that sometimes they make it hard to breathe around the pain of wanting. She is the first to rise in the early mornings, now so intimately familiar with the colors of every dawn, and the last to close her eyes beneath a sky full of constellations whose paths she travels in all her dreams. Even those dreams are full of faraway places and wild adventures, new worlds and new faces and so many new things to fall in love with. It is an ache that never leaves her, one as buried beneath her skin as the beating organ between her ribs.
But even adventurers need breaks, and so it is that the afternoon finds her napping in the wide branches of an old, beautiful oak tree. She has shifted to her panther form, of course, the lithe black body and curving claws far more suited for climbing than that of her equine form - even with those inky dark wings to carry her up. Her breathing is slow and languid, her eyes closed, and the only indication of her somewhat wakefulness is the long tail that swishes slowly from the deep black of a heavy shadow.
The sound of someone below stirs her more fully awake, and with the grace of someone well-practiced, she leans her head over the edge of the wide branch to look directly beneath her. There is a stallion there with shining fins where his mane and tail should be, and a cluster of bright yellow flowers gripped carefully between his teeth. She stays quiet while he settles himself, feeling that familiar ache of curiosity growing in her belly as he turns his head and, without warning, tosses the flowers into the river beside them.
Her dark head tilts questioningly to one side, watching the flowers swept away - though one becomes caught in some stones at the edge of the water. She stands, considers, and then leaps down from her branch with all the silent ease of a predator. She is, of course, no kind of predator at all, though she forgets the stallion won’t immediately know this and flashes him a toothy grin as she passes by to capture the single stranded black-eyed susan. With a careful paw she fishes the flower out, watching as it is caught in the current and swept away with the rest. Then, turning back to this man with the gleaming fin crest along his neck, she sits and tips her dark feline head at him again, her words etched with the hint of a friendly purr, “Do you often drown flowers in the river?” If she knew the love behind the action, his true reason for it, she would think his heart beautiful. “I’m Aureline, and I promise I have no interest in biting you. No offense!”
There is a wanderlust in her heart that never lets her rest, an ache and a curiosity rooted so deeply in her chest that sometimes they make it hard to breathe around the pain of wanting. She is the first to rise in the early mornings, now so intimately familiar with the colors of every dawn, and the last to close her eyes beneath a sky full of constellations whose paths she travels in all her dreams. Even those dreams are full of faraway places and wild adventures, new worlds and new faces and so many new things to fall in love with. It is an ache that never leaves her, one as buried beneath her skin as the beating organ between her ribs.
But even adventurers need breaks, and so it is that the afternoon finds her napping in the wide branches of an old, beautiful oak tree. She has shifted to her panther form, of course, the lithe black body and curving claws far more suited for climbing than that of her equine form - even with those inky dark wings to carry her up. Her breathing is slow and languid, her eyes closed, and the only indication of her somewhat wakefulness is the long tail that swishes slowly from the deep black of a heavy shadow.
The sound of someone below stirs her more fully awake, and with the grace of someone well-practiced, she leans her head over the edge of the wide branch to look directly beneath her. There is a stallion there with shining fins where his mane and tail should be, and a cluster of bright yellow flowers gripped carefully between his teeth. She stays quiet while he settles himself, feeling that familiar ache of curiosity growing in her belly as he turns his head and, without warning, tosses the flowers into the river beside them.
Her dark head tilts questioningly to one side, watching the flowers swept away - though one becomes caught in some stones at the edge of the water. She stands, considers, and then leaps down from her branch with all the silent ease of a predator. She is, of course, no kind of predator at all, though she forgets the stallion won’t immediately know this and flashes him a toothy grin as she passes by to capture the single stranded black-eyed susan. With a careful paw she fishes the flower out, watching as it is caught in the current and swept away with the rest. Then, turning back to this man with the gleaming fin crest along his neck, she sits and tips her dark feline head at him again, her words etched with the hint of a friendly purr, “Do you often drown flowers in the river?” If she knew the love behind the action, his true reason for it, she would think his heart beautiful. “I’m Aureline, and I promise I have no interest in biting you. No offense!”
aureline
dear wilderness, be at your best
her armor is thin as the fabric of her dress