04-18-2021, 09:49 AM
Mazikeen
Although it had been tempting to shift mid-flight to a heron, just to see if she could trigger a pit-stop by doing so, Mazikeen kept to the Haast’s eagle shape she had chosen for the flight. The short nap they’d managed was longer than most she allowed herself recently and she’s enjoying the flush of energy it brings. Or, maybe it wasn’t really the sleep at all sending electricity through her veins.
She takes a moment to admire the ease with which Gale shifts, to admire him, before landing and shifting back into herself. No extra animal features adorn her this time, just her curved horns twisting out from her head and her assortment of scars. Her keen orange eyes take in the sights, an instinctual wariness rising up, but she’s distracted from sizing up the crowd by Gale’s voice and her eyes dance with delight as she turns to him.
Mazikeen keeps her voice low when she replies, careful to make sure that only Gale would be able to hear. “If we go into those woods right now, we will not be coming back out.” As she speaks she brushes a quick kiss against his neck but refrains from doing anything more - thankful that the presence of wings at his side keeps her from pressing too close and therefore helps her keep to her senses. Her history of interaction with or as a couple in public is absolutely non-existent but she imagines there’s more boundaries - and hopes that even that quick contact wasn’t presumptuous of her.
Her orange gaze remains on Gale, watching for any signs of discomfort, and her voice returns to a normal volume. “So games it is.” Truthfully, Mazikeen isn’t really all that keen on a competition because she’s fully aware of how sour her mood will be afterwards if she loses. But she won’t admit this out loud and has, for the moment, forgotten that her sourness will display on her coat whether she wills it or not.
In an effort to keep her mind in the present and not straying back to how pleasant of a wake-up she had received that morning, she asks “Do you think any of your brothers will be here?”
She takes a moment to admire the ease with which Gale shifts, to admire him, before landing and shifting back into herself. No extra animal features adorn her this time, just her curved horns twisting out from her head and her assortment of scars. Her keen orange eyes take in the sights, an instinctual wariness rising up, but she’s distracted from sizing up the crowd by Gale’s voice and her eyes dance with delight as she turns to him.
Mazikeen keeps her voice low when she replies, careful to make sure that only Gale would be able to hear. “If we go into those woods right now, we will not be coming back out.” As she speaks she brushes a quick kiss against his neck but refrains from doing anything more - thankful that the presence of wings at his side keeps her from pressing too close and therefore helps her keep to her senses. Her history of interaction with or as a couple in public is absolutely non-existent but she imagines there’s more boundaries - and hopes that even that quick contact wasn’t presumptuous of her.
Her orange gaze remains on Gale, watching for any signs of discomfort, and her voice returns to a normal volume. “So games it is.” Truthfully, Mazikeen isn’t really all that keen on a competition because she’s fully aware of how sour her mood will be afterwards if she loses. But she won’t admit this out loud and has, for the moment, forgotten that her sourness will display on her coat whether she wills it or not.
In an effort to keep her mind in the present and not straying back to how pleasant of a wake-up she had received that morning, she asks “Do you think any of your brothers will be here?”
@[Gale]