07-27-2017, 07:16 PM
i'm not going to change, so stay out of my way.
i don't need you to understand that i'm already saved.
Frustration had already begun to fester within the hearth of her chest.
For many days, weeks, months, even, she had not worried - her son had a wild heart, and a wanderlust that could not be sated, and he had gone missing before. She had eventually come to accept it, though she had wondered where it had come from - she, herself, preferred stability and carefully placed roots, as did his father. He was not like either of them, in personality, nor in drive - if it were not for his golden skin, his golden-flecked hazel eyes, the russet of his tangled mane, she might wonder if he were her own at all.
Alas, though he was as wild and steadfast as they came, not a winter had gone by since his departure as a yearling that he had not found his way back to the pale silt and sand of the volcanic island. There had not been a winter that he had not found way back to her, to preen her feathers, to affectionately remind his mother that he was and always would be a piece of her heart, wandering freely outside of her body. She had not worried - she had not thought twice of his absence until the icy remnants of wintry snowfall melted beneath the warm, unyielding sunlight of a beckoning vernal equinox, bringing an end to the season that so often brought him home.
And so, her search began, with an uneasiness stirring in the pit of her roiling belly.
She can feel that she is not alone - she is not foolish enough, nor oblivious enough to ignore the discomfort of a set of eyes settled squarely between the ridged bone of her shoulders. A shiver traverses the length of her spine as she quietly presses forth through the thick foliage, as a dark shadow caresses the gleaming gold of her skin - she is moving deeper into the nearly impenetrable darkness, but she knew it intimately, and she felt no hesitance - no fear. Irritation caresses her sensitive, easily roused nerve endings, coaxing out slim, curved formations of bone between her eyes and down to the tip of her muzzle, where pale, pink lips remain, parted with clenched teeth.
An instinctual lurch causes her to stop, a low growl emerging from the confinement of her throat as the source of her unease is unveiled. She does not look at her - she does not care to give her the satisfaction of her undivided attention, though the ivory feathers neatly preened along the surface of her wing bristle against her side, and thus, against Heartfire, who is far too close for her for her own taste.
"I do not consider it running into one another when you are following me," she snarls, her golden-flecked gaze set ahead steadily. "and you should fuck off before I give you a piece of my mind."
For many days, weeks, months, even, she had not worried - her son had a wild heart, and a wanderlust that could not be sated, and he had gone missing before. She had eventually come to accept it, though she had wondered where it had come from - she, herself, preferred stability and carefully placed roots, as did his father. He was not like either of them, in personality, nor in drive - if it were not for his golden skin, his golden-flecked hazel eyes, the russet of his tangled mane, she might wonder if he were her own at all.
Alas, though he was as wild and steadfast as they came, not a winter had gone by since his departure as a yearling that he had not found his way back to the pale silt and sand of the volcanic island. There had not been a winter that he had not found way back to her, to preen her feathers, to affectionately remind his mother that he was and always would be a piece of her heart, wandering freely outside of her body. She had not worried - she had not thought twice of his absence until the icy remnants of wintry snowfall melted beneath the warm, unyielding sunlight of a beckoning vernal equinox, bringing an end to the season that so often brought him home.
And so, her search began, with an uneasiness stirring in the pit of her roiling belly.
She can feel that she is not alone - she is not foolish enough, nor oblivious enough to ignore the discomfort of a set of eyes settled squarely between the ridged bone of her shoulders. A shiver traverses the length of her spine as she quietly presses forth through the thick foliage, as a dark shadow caresses the gleaming gold of her skin - she is moving deeper into the nearly impenetrable darkness, but she knew it intimately, and she felt no hesitance - no fear. Irritation caresses her sensitive, easily roused nerve endings, coaxing out slim, curved formations of bone between her eyes and down to the tip of her muzzle, where pale, pink lips remain, parted with clenched teeth.
An instinctual lurch causes her to stop, a low growl emerging from the confinement of her throat as the source of her unease is unveiled. She does not look at her - she does not care to give her the satisfaction of her undivided attention, though the ivory feathers neatly preened along the surface of her wing bristle against her side, and thus, against Heartfire, who is far too close for her for her own taste.
"I do not consider it running into one another when you are following me," she snarls, her golden-flecked gaze set ahead steadily. "and you should fuck off before I give you a piece of my mind."
Ellyse