01-19-2021, 04:31 PM
. |
. |
. |
“I have an idea,” he says, and Targaryen hears his voice fill with more hope than he has felt in a while. He’s been lonely, a boy with parents too invested in their own activities to care for their son, and Catryn’s questions bring warmth into the emptiness of his life. “There’s a place not far from here. You can practice flying there! It’s where I practice sometimes.”
It’s a place he had discovered on his mission to fly, bent on finding the true capabilities of the bone and muscle and feather sprouting from his shoulders. Targaryen had been skeptical at first; the hill wasn’t terribly tall, and he wasn’t sure if he would have enough time to catch the air under his wings before he hit the river. But it had become the perfect place to learn how to fly, and the distance had felt much larger when he was falling, and he supposes it might be perfect for Catryn as well.
The tobiano rustles his feathers against his sides with excitement, and there’s a spark in his brown eyes. “I’ll tell you about the place on the way, so you can follow my voice to get there.” It’s the first time he’s mentioned her vision (aside from his accidental comment), but he states this with gentlemanly purpose. The eagle, as if he sensed Targaryen’s departure, shoots off the boy’s back and begins to circle the sky above them. As they walk, he describes the hill to her in detail — perhaps too much detail, but his excitement for her has swept him away.
He mentions how it stands at the edge of the Meadow, where the ground slopes upward before suddenly dropping out (the mechanics of how such a thing could happen are lost on him), and below the hill is the snaking body of the river. The section that winds along the hill is deep enough to protect young bodies from bruising themselves on the rocky bottom, and the Forest stretches out on the other side of the water. The trees are thinner at the edge of the river, and Targaryen reassures her that she can let herself fall into the water or push her wings to carry her above the treetops.
They are ascending the hill as he laughs and admits, “I ran into the trees a lot, and they hurt… But you forget about all of that once you fly.” Once they reach the top, Targaryen tells her to stop and hesitantly flexes his wings. “Now, the dropoff is about two strides in front of you. I’m going to jump with you if that’s okay.” He says this last sentence shyly, and Targaryen feels his cheeks warm like he has eaten something spicy.
It’s a place he had discovered on his mission to fly, bent on finding the true capabilities of the bone and muscle and feather sprouting from his shoulders. Targaryen had been skeptical at first; the hill wasn’t terribly tall, and he wasn’t sure if he would have enough time to catch the air under his wings before he hit the river. But it had become the perfect place to learn how to fly, and the distance had felt much larger when he was falling, and he supposes it might be perfect for Catryn as well.
The tobiano rustles his feathers against his sides with excitement, and there’s a spark in his brown eyes. “I’ll tell you about the place on the way, so you can follow my voice to get there.” It’s the first time he’s mentioned her vision (aside from his accidental comment), but he states this with gentlemanly purpose. The eagle, as if he sensed Targaryen’s departure, shoots off the boy’s back and begins to circle the sky above them. As they walk, he describes the hill to her in detail — perhaps too much detail, but his excitement for her has swept him away.
He mentions how it stands at the edge of the Meadow, where the ground slopes upward before suddenly dropping out (the mechanics of how such a thing could happen are lost on him), and below the hill is the snaking body of the river. The section that winds along the hill is deep enough to protect young bodies from bruising themselves on the rocky bottom, and the Forest stretches out on the other side of the water. The trees are thinner at the edge of the river, and Targaryen reassures her that she can let herself fall into the water or push her wings to carry her above the treetops.
They are ascending the hill as he laughs and admits, “I ran into the trees a lot, and they hurt… But you forget about all of that once you fly.” Once they reach the top, Targaryen tells her to stop and hesitantly flexes his wings. “Now, the dropoff is about two strides in front of you. I’m going to jump with you if that’s okay.” He says this last sentence shyly, and Targaryen feels his cheeks warm like he has eaten something spicy.
@[Catryn]