11-29-2017, 03:37 PM
He is the picture of a hero, shroud in the cloak of night and brave stars. Wound can see the rise and fall of his muscles. Their firmity paired with the gentleness of his feathers almost seems to mimic the personality of a hero from a dream — a firm stubbornness to keep moving past obstacles flush against soft kindness. So far in Wound’s life she has only come across the sniveling, wailing, petrifying creatures that crawl into the cobwebby corners of Beqanna for their sleep. This man — found upon the shore along the sea of silver — is nothing like the others she has come across.
His kindness is refreshing.
Wound feels a blossoming of warmth among the crevices of her heart at his smile. Her brothers have often flashed bright grins in her direction at her poetic words, but never has she received one from a stranger. A breeze pulls itself across the beachfront, slightly cool in its midnight temperature. Her skin shivers but the chill is welcome.
He gives his name (Warrick, a handsome name that suits him well) and invites her to swim with him more. Wound feels relief shadow her shoulders. The silver depths of the water would shield her disfigured leg from her new friend’s eyes. Although she knows he will find out sooner or later, Wound plans to prolong that encounter as long as she possibly can.
Her lips curl up into a soft smile. “I’d love to.” Wound turns back toward the waves and splashes in with a look over her shoulder to see if Warrick follows. The ocean is still warm from the day before and it provides a bit of relief from the cool of the wind. Once the water reaches Wound’s shoulders, she turns toward the auburn and navy stallion.
“What is it like — flying?” She’s always watched the birds careening through the sky, fast as shooting stars, and felt her heart soar with them. It must be enlightening to take off into the sky and suddenly be in another place in half the time it would take to walk. The silver reflects of the stars illuminate her face with an otherworldly glow. “I imagine it was difficult to learn, at first.”
@[Warrick]
His kindness is refreshing.
Wound feels a blossoming of warmth among the crevices of her heart at his smile. Her brothers have often flashed bright grins in her direction at her poetic words, but never has she received one from a stranger. A breeze pulls itself across the beachfront, slightly cool in its midnight temperature. Her skin shivers but the chill is welcome.
He gives his name (Warrick, a handsome name that suits him well) and invites her to swim with him more. Wound feels relief shadow her shoulders. The silver depths of the water would shield her disfigured leg from her new friend’s eyes. Although she knows he will find out sooner or later, Wound plans to prolong that encounter as long as she possibly can.
Her lips curl up into a soft smile. “I’d love to.” Wound turns back toward the waves and splashes in with a look over her shoulder to see if Warrick follows. The ocean is still warm from the day before and it provides a bit of relief from the cool of the wind. Once the water reaches Wound’s shoulders, she turns toward the auburn and navy stallion.
“What is it like — flying?” She’s always watched the birds careening through the sky, fast as shooting stars, and felt her heart soar with them. It must be enlightening to take off into the sky and suddenly be in another place in half the time it would take to walk. The silver reflects of the stars illuminate her face with an otherworldly glow. “I imagine it was difficult to learn, at first.”
@[Warrick]