PHAEDRUS
He couldn’t say that he is a fan of the elastic effect, but it sure does come in helpful on many occasions. Part of him worries that she would be revolted by the thing, or that she would be scared, possibly angry that he hadn’t been completely open about it earlier. Another part of him is shocked at the vulnerability that he finds himself experiencing. Sharing feelings? Telling her stuff that he couldn’t admit to himself? What the hell?! Even as he thinks it he still can’t stop himself. He can’t mold his body to hers, he can’t wrap her securely in his wings, he has to resort to the last thing possible sniffing out any injury. He would be sick if him dropping her had given any discomfort for her.
At the sound of her voice again he smiles at her. Could think of a few cliché’s for that, he wouldn’t torture her with those though, he isn’t that much a fool, okay maybe just a grinning fool. Yes, he had seen death, but it had been battlefield death, the kind that is bloody, and stinks of adrenaline. The kind where you never see their eyes, only hear the thick crunch of their skull before proceeding to the next one, listening for the snapping bones, screams of agony, the deathly silence that follows. You keep moving, you don’t stop, no matter what. Any pain you feel, there is always time for it later. For Phaedrus he had NEVER been on the running side, fearing death for himself. Death seemed like a distant hazy thing that is just there, never fully recognized until it corners you, and stares you in the face. Never had he thought on it, never had he thought about any deaths he had caused in the name of war.
He sees her turn her face away, and just as she feels the weight of her past, he does as well. For a moment the heaviness of life sinks in, worries, and woes, they were nothing compared to the losses that many were experiencing that day. As much as others have lost, he has gained, namely the realization of something more than just duty and honor. It flickers, and burns until something clenches in his chest, making his knees want to give. She looks back to him and he knows there is something, something that she isn’t quite ready to discuss. Something he wouldn’t push for just yet. But the look in her eyes has him practically on his knees, at least he is inside his head. He can’t help it, touching her that is. He needs it, he needs to give it, he’s afraid that he is smothering though, in beginning to pull away she tugs him back, and he concedes burying his muzzle into her mane, closing his eyes against the overwhelming need for her scent in his lungs. He stands there as close as he can be to her, toying with her mane enjoying the moments that he has. Yes, he could live without his wings, if he could stay here with her forever, then yes living without the skies would be perfectly fine with him.
Its then that they appear just as if they had never left, he wraps her up in the blue sheen of feathers. (They after all had changed in their newness. Taking on the color of his mane, and filling out where the old scars had shown where he had holes ripped through them.) For the moment pulling her closer to himself, spreading them over her back and sides its all he wants to do. As this happens he unknowingly whispers into her mane, stay with me, let us not part again. His throat husky with the depth of his thoughts, he does not realize the reality of the situation. Believing that he is imagining holding her close, imagining the moments when he had stroked her with his feathers.
At the sound of her voice again he smiles at her. Could think of a few cliché’s for that, he wouldn’t torture her with those though, he isn’t that much a fool, okay maybe just a grinning fool. Yes, he had seen death, but it had been battlefield death, the kind that is bloody, and stinks of adrenaline. The kind where you never see their eyes, only hear the thick crunch of their skull before proceeding to the next one, listening for the snapping bones, screams of agony, the deathly silence that follows. You keep moving, you don’t stop, no matter what. Any pain you feel, there is always time for it later. For Phaedrus he had NEVER been on the running side, fearing death for himself. Death seemed like a distant hazy thing that is just there, never fully recognized until it corners you, and stares you in the face. Never had he thought on it, never had he thought about any deaths he had caused in the name of war.
He sees her turn her face away, and just as she feels the weight of her past, he does as well. For a moment the heaviness of life sinks in, worries, and woes, they were nothing compared to the losses that many were experiencing that day. As much as others have lost, he has gained, namely the realization of something more than just duty and honor. It flickers, and burns until something clenches in his chest, making his knees want to give. She looks back to him and he knows there is something, something that she isn’t quite ready to discuss. Something he wouldn’t push for just yet. But the look in her eyes has him practically on his knees, at least he is inside his head. He can’t help it, touching her that is. He needs it, he needs to give it, he’s afraid that he is smothering though, in beginning to pull away she tugs him back, and he concedes burying his muzzle into her mane, closing his eyes against the overwhelming need for her scent in his lungs. He stands there as close as he can be to her, toying with her mane enjoying the moments that he has. Yes, he could live without his wings, if he could stay here with her forever, then yes living without the skies would be perfectly fine with him.
Its then that they appear just as if they had never left, he wraps her up in the blue sheen of feathers. (They after all had changed in their newness. Taking on the color of his mane, and filling out where the old scars had shown where he had holes ripped through them.) For the moment pulling her closer to himself, spreading them over her back and sides its all he wants to do. As this happens he unknowingly whispers into her mane, stay with me, let us not part again. His throat husky with the depth of his thoughts, he does not realize the reality of the situation. Believing that he is imagining holding her close, imagining the moments when he had stroked her with his feathers.
i'll carry this flag, to the grave if i must
I'm sooo sorry this took so long D':
@[riva]