03-01-2018, 11:10 PM
bristol
the past tense of regret is indecision
wing appearance: red and feathered
She considers finally arriving at her father’s new homeland a grand adventure, and so she does not go straight to the big island. Instead the girl skirts the islands, staring down into their depths as if she can divine the best place to explore even from the height she is currently maintaining. Finally she settles, somewhat arbitrarily, on a small island north of the biggest one, and circles once to identify a big enough break in the trees to accommodate her – and then she folds her red feathered wings close to her side and drops from the sky like a stone, the only sound the exuberant laughter the wind tries to steal away from her.
At the last minute, she opens her wings to arrest her descent and with a snap of noise they fill with air and a few strong wingbeats lower the bay girl to the ground, where she extends her wings and carefully preens some errant feathers back into place. When she is satisfied, critical eye finding nothing out of place, she gives them a last settling shake and then folds the deep red appendages tight against her side and peers up into the trees, where the parrots startled into fleeing by her free-falling arrival have begun to return, chattering to each other in squeaks and squawks as they peer down at her, some creeping closer and closer.
“Hello,” she says into the canopy, smiling as they stare. “I don’t suppose any of you can give me directions to fresh water?” They don’t speak, so she assumes they only speak bird, and walks away into the forest, hoping to find fresh water to drink. Or something exciting she can take to her father – but what she finds is another girl. When she first lays eyes on Kylin, Bristol blinks in surprise (she’s purple, with some sort of fin, and whoa) but then she smiles and calls out a greeting. “Hello! Is there fresh water on this island?”
At the last minute, she opens her wings to arrest her descent and with a snap of noise they fill with air and a few strong wingbeats lower the bay girl to the ground, where she extends her wings and carefully preens some errant feathers back into place. When she is satisfied, critical eye finding nothing out of place, she gives them a last settling shake and then folds the deep red appendages tight against her side and peers up into the trees, where the parrots startled into fleeing by her free-falling arrival have begun to return, chattering to each other in squeaks and squawks as they peer down at her, some creeping closer and closer.
“Hello,” she says into the canopy, smiling as they stare. “I don’t suppose any of you can give me directions to fresh water?” They don’t speak, so she assumes they only speak bird, and walks away into the forest, hoping to find fresh water to drink. Or something exciting she can take to her father – but what she finds is another girl. When she first lays eyes on Kylin, Bristol blinks in surprise (she’s purple, with some sort of fin, and whoa) but then she smiles and calls out a greeting. “Hello! Is there fresh water on this island?”