06-21-2016, 12:54 PM
like a rolling thunder chasing the wind,
forces pulling from the center of the earth again.
The bright light of dawn blinds him, and the damp, bloodied colt presses nearer to the warmth of his mother's side. He tucks his plum cheek between her moist side and the crest of her wing, and she cradles him closer to her. Still breathless, she plucks and preens him, tongue laving across his slick pelt. He nestles tightly against her with a soft bleat, shielding himself from the frigid air that wafts slowly with the rising tide. Her loving caresses and steady, rhythmic heartbeat soothe him as he stands still against her, though soon he tires of the darkness beneath. He twists and turns beneath the weight of her wing, his side pressed taut against hers as he shyly peers out.
His hazel eyes squint from the searing assault of light. The sun bathes the sea in its glory, and as it rises higher over the horizon, a sheen of various colors wash over the glimmering grains of sand. As his gaze adjusts, he presses away from her (and she is so very tired, so she merely watches him anxiously), wobbly, spindly legs stepping into the uneven sand for the very first time. He presses his damp nostrils against it, grimacing as the minuscule pebbles stick stubbornly to his skin. He shakes his head with violent abandon, though he soon finds himself losing his balance on uneven ground, awash with vertigo as he collapses onto the soft sand.
Startled, Misra steps forward to nudge and brush away some of the pebbles that now dust his deep amethyst coat, to no avail. His eyes are bright, curious and confused, and she can do little else but sigh and smile. Gently, he presses his pebbled nostrils to her cheek, and she draws him nearer to her. Altogether unremarkable, yet undeniably her own.
Arestor.
the immortal, amethyst son of Kirin and Misra.