I tried to sell my soul last night
Funny, he wouldn't even take a bite
One could almost get used to the way the land here seemed to change like a delta in the spring. Almost. Unless that one was Ashhal. He would never fucking get used to it. Yet here he is, day in and day out, trudging through this endless life as though he has nothing better to do.
He doesn’t of course. Which would be some bullshit if he could be bothered to care anymore. And if he is bothered, he sure as hell wouldn’t admit to it.
So, turns out, he is really fucking bothered.
Which, much to his eternal irritation, is what had brought him from seclusion in the depths of the forest. But damnit all to hell, even he could be struck by boredom. Truthfully, he’s not sure whether he’s looking for a fight or fuck, but he’d figure it out when he got to that point.
With a stretch of his wide, pale wings, he launches himself forward, the backdraft causing leaves to dance around him as he heaves himself into the air. For a short time, there is only the wind against his scarred skin and the brisk bite of autumn as he re-acquaints himself with the act of the flying. Beneath him, the trees fade, growing sparser until the sun-dried grass of the meadow stretches before him.
With a sharp dive, he hurdles to a clear expanse, wings snapping wide to catch himself just before he pitches into the ground. A few running steps slow his momentum until he finally skids to a halt, dust billowing around him. It isn’t until he has walked off the rough landing and settled his wings against his ribs that he realizes he isn’t alone.
His features darken instantly, lip curling in distaste until, much to his surprise, he recognizes the frost-coated lines of his uninvited companion.
“It’s you,” he grunts, dark gaze flashing as he eyes her with mild antipathy.
@Stargaze