09-04-2017, 01:04 PM
Ichor is learning that she doesn’t like daylight as much in this original shape of moth-mare. (Well, she’s almost a mare but a thin scaly six-legged absurd one at that!) Night is better for her, easier to see in and move in when there is only the soft light of a moon and some stars or no light at all, just shadows. Daylight makes her sleepy and sluggish, as she drags herself slowly through the meadow in search of something… Oh yes, the river! Just the mere thought of it makes the gills about her neck flutter in anticipation even though she has not decided if she’ll go beneath to shut out the light. She hasn’t quite tested the effect that going underwater would have on her delicate wings styled in the color and size of an atlas moth’s.
Hm, she muses to herself inside her odd head. Would they fare beneath the river or would she ruin their powdery delicateness by getting them wet? Wait - moths fly and flutter in the rain! Pah! Her nectar-seeking tongue curls around the peal of laughter that wants to fly from her mouth and she stuffs it back in her throat with a swallow. She’s some unique hybridization of moth, lamprey, and horse so she should survive a dip in the river, or a nap because that’s more along the lines of what Ichor was thinking. A cold wet nap in the river’s embrace, just drifting along wherever the current carried her until she woke up. The temptation was too great to ignore and so she puttered onward and nearly into another - -
Her black compound eyes worked to piece together the shape of him (she only knows this from the antennae atop her head that have tiny sense receptors all over them and pick up on the distinctive pheromones of horse and male at the same time her nostrils identify him as such) from amidst the harsh daylight. At first there are many of him until they coalesce into one, as she drew up short to avoid a collision. Instinctively, her atlas moth wings flare up defensively as if to confuse and dazzle him with their spots and color even though Ichor has sensed no immediate threat from him. If anything, he seemed apathetic and she was inclined to lay her wings flat after a moment or two and let him pass.
He seemed as intent upon a destination as she did.
But her gills fluttered at her neck, reacting to something some small part of her recognized as water though she knew the river was still a ways off yet. It made her tilt her absurdity of a head sideways as her compound eyes kept trying to keep him in focus.
“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, clearly not socialized at all.
Hm, she muses to herself inside her odd head. Would they fare beneath the river or would she ruin their powdery delicateness by getting them wet? Wait - moths fly and flutter in the rain! Pah! Her nectar-seeking tongue curls around the peal of laughter that wants to fly from her mouth and she stuffs it back in her throat with a swallow. She’s some unique hybridization of moth, lamprey, and horse so she should survive a dip in the river, or a nap because that’s more along the lines of what Ichor was thinking. A cold wet nap in the river’s embrace, just drifting along wherever the current carried her until she woke up. The temptation was too great to ignore and so she puttered onward and nearly into another - -
Her black compound eyes worked to piece together the shape of him (she only knows this from the antennae atop her head that have tiny sense receptors all over them and pick up on the distinctive pheromones of horse and male at the same time her nostrils identify him as such) from amidst the harsh daylight. At first there are many of him until they coalesce into one, as she drew up short to avoid a collision. Instinctively, her atlas moth wings flare up defensively as if to confuse and dazzle him with their spots and color even though Ichor has sensed no immediate threat from him. If anything, he seemed apathetic and she was inclined to lay her wings flat after a moment or two and let him pass.
He seemed as intent upon a destination as she did.
But her gills fluttered at her neck, reacting to something some small part of her recognized as water though she knew the river was still a ways off yet. It made her tilt her absurdity of a head sideways as her compound eyes kept trying to keep him in focus.
“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, clearly not socialized at all.
ooc: she's inept and awkward lmao. <3