12-04-2017, 11:43 PM
bristol
the past tense of regret is indecision
wing appearance: dragonfly wings
The young mare knows she should go to Ischia and find her father. She was supposed to join him there a while ago, and she is sure he is worried. Brennen is, after all, a champion worrier; especially since she is the youngest of his flock currently still ‘in the nest’, so to speak. But Bristol isn’t quite ready to settle down and work – and she knows that is what must await her in a newly forming Kingdom.
No – let her champion of a father do the settling down and the preliminary work – Bristol will make an appearance when she is sure that he will not up and decide to move them elsewhere. In the meantime, she flits across the sky on iridescent dragonfly wings, looking for something interesting to do. She spirals into a landing, tight little circles bringing her to the ground almost straight down. She has taken great joy in learning about the different wings and the ways they can work for her, and she loves the dragonfly for its ability to zip back, forth, up, and down. Maneuverability to the extreme – though it is exhausting. She’d traveled with the made-for-soaring bird wings she’d been born with, and only switched out right before she got to the meadow.
And, well, the dragonfly wings are prettier. More striking.
Letting the shimmering appendages fall still and quiet along her back, Bristol looks around. The two mares are close, and the first thing she lays her amber gaze upon, and she thinks, good enough. Turning on her haunches to face them she takes a couple steps forward, looking first at the dark mare and then the blue one, offering a bright smile. “Hello,” she greets the pair, halting her slim body so as to form the third point of a triangle. “It is quite nice today. I’m Bristol.”
No – let her champion of a father do the settling down and the preliminary work – Bristol will make an appearance when she is sure that he will not up and decide to move them elsewhere. In the meantime, she flits across the sky on iridescent dragonfly wings, looking for something interesting to do. She spirals into a landing, tight little circles bringing her to the ground almost straight down. She has taken great joy in learning about the different wings and the ways they can work for her, and she loves the dragonfly for its ability to zip back, forth, up, and down. Maneuverability to the extreme – though it is exhausting. She’d traveled with the made-for-soaring bird wings she’d been born with, and only switched out right before she got to the meadow.
And, well, the dragonfly wings are prettier. More striking.
Letting the shimmering appendages fall still and quiet along her back, Bristol looks around. The two mares are close, and the first thing she lays her amber gaze upon, and she thinks, good enough. Turning on her haunches to face them she takes a couple steps forward, looking first at the dark mare and then the blue one, offering a bright smile. “Hello,” she greets the pair, halting her slim body so as to form the third point of a triangle. “It is quite nice today. I’m Bristol.”