08-23-2024, 09:46 PM
Ruhr had noticed the change in his eyes immediately, as attentive to his appearance as he was to the Moon. His eyes were as brown as the earth below his hooves, and yet the sky in the wager’s reflection was a cloudless blue. Raising his gaze from his reflection, the feathered stallion had peered up into the sky.
Definitely blue.
And then looked back down at his reflection.
Definitely brown.
He’d blinked a few more times, shook his head, then pawed at the water. When it had resettled, his eyes had still the same inexplicable shade.
It took him much longer to notice the absence of the wind, of his Stratosian aura.
So long, in fact, that it is only tonight, as he lands at the base of a bluff, feathers streaked with sweat, that he realizes it is gone. He tilts his head, as if he might hear it, but neither in his ears nor against his feathers does he find the aura that his kind have always possessed.
The Moon has been changing him, Ruhr reminds himself.
If She takes back Her gifts, who is he to question Her wisdom?
Even if those gifts he had been born with.
Even if those gifts are part of his Stratosian identity.
Even if he does not understand, and She continues to refuse to show him any visions.
Already weary with the physical exhaustion of a day spent in the air, Ruhr can feel the tension rising in him. He shakes out his wings to diffuse it, then limps out of the windbreak that the bluff provides. When a breeze blows once more on his face, the stallion closes his brown eyes and takes several long, slow breaths.
@Narya
Definitely blue.
And then looked back down at his reflection.
Definitely brown.
He’d blinked a few more times, shook his head, then pawed at the water. When it had resettled, his eyes had still the same inexplicable shade.
It took him much longer to notice the absence of the wind, of his Stratosian aura.
So long, in fact, that it is only tonight, as he lands at the base of a bluff, feathers streaked with sweat, that he realizes it is gone. He tilts his head, as if he might hear it, but neither in his ears nor against his feathers does he find the aura that his kind have always possessed.
The Moon has been changing him, Ruhr reminds himself.
If She takes back Her gifts, who is he to question Her wisdom?
Even if those gifts he had been born with.
Even if those gifts are part of his Stratosian identity.
Even if he does not understand, and She continues to refuse to show him any visions.
Already weary with the physical exhaustion of a day spent in the air, Ruhr can feel the tension rising in him. He shakes out his wings to diffuse it, then limps out of the windbreak that the bluff provides. When a breeze blows once more on his face, the stallion closes his brown eyes and takes several long, slow breaths.
@Narya