05-17-2019, 07:24 AM
At this altitude, Pteron could forget that spring has come to Beqanna below. Up here, everything is always cold and every breath crackles in his lungs. There are no budding trees or bright grasses here – only wind and cloud and Pteron.
As a child, he’d fantasized about staying here forever, hovering above the earth like an albatross. A simple life, closer to the sun, but it would be a lonely one. That is what always brought him back to earth, in the end. He’d grow too lonely. Seeing his parents and siblings from above was good for a few hours, but eventually the desire to return would rise up. Flying is his favorite, but he also liked running patrols with Father, listening to Mother’s stories and teaching Marni and the triplets everything he wises he’d known at their age.
But now it is just Marni and the twins, and Pteron has no desire to see the emptiness in his parents eyes or the shallow divot in the nest where Gale used to sleep.
Gale had been his favorite, and when Pteron had seen the broken wings his father had brought back from Loess, he had taken flight without a word.
He’s been flying for days now. His thoughts are hazy, but that is better than remembering. His belly growls, but Pteron prefers that emptiness to the one in his chest. The stallion opnes his mouth – to scream or cry he is not really certain – but the sound comes from somewhere below before he can make it himself.
In a heartbeat, he is gone from sight. Someone below is yelling in a voice that might have been his own, and so he banks beneath the clouds to find them without a second thought. It is probably dangerous, he thinks, but less so than falling headfirst into a volcano.
She is not hard to find even in the twilight, the riverlands are empty this time of year and the yellow creature makes no effort to hide herself. Pteron watches, engrossed and somehow grateful for this spectacle that requires all of his attention. He cannot think of Gale while he watches the transformation below him. He has seen shifters before, but this is not the same. Something is different – something is wrong. He cannot being to think of how he might help and so instead he watches, and intangible presence, and lands only when she collapses to the earth.
Pteron wonders if perhaps she is dead. But no, her chest heaves against the hard earth, and Pteron takes a step back lest she rise again. Focused on the fallen mare, he nearly does not notice the arrival of a golden stallion. Not until the crunch of hooves on semi-frozen ground sound closely does he even look up, locking eyes with the stranger. Well, his own eyes lock – Aten will see nothing but empty space.
“She was shifting,” he says, his voice breaking the silence the follows Aten’s question. As the fog of his breath appears in the air, Pteron does as well. He is looking at Vastra rather than Aten, but a single blue ear remains turned toward the unfamiliar stallion as he watches the mare on the ground. “But I think it went wrong.”
@[Vastra]
@[Aten]
As a child, he’d fantasized about staying here forever, hovering above the earth like an albatross. A simple life, closer to the sun, but it would be a lonely one. That is what always brought him back to earth, in the end. He’d grow too lonely. Seeing his parents and siblings from above was good for a few hours, but eventually the desire to return would rise up. Flying is his favorite, but he also liked running patrols with Father, listening to Mother’s stories and teaching Marni and the triplets everything he wises he’d known at their age.
But now it is just Marni and the twins, and Pteron has no desire to see the emptiness in his parents eyes or the shallow divot in the nest where Gale used to sleep.
Gale had been his favorite, and when Pteron had seen the broken wings his father had brought back from Loess, he had taken flight without a word.
He’s been flying for days now. His thoughts are hazy, but that is better than remembering. His belly growls, but Pteron prefers that emptiness to the one in his chest. The stallion opnes his mouth – to scream or cry he is not really certain – but the sound comes from somewhere below before he can make it himself.
In a heartbeat, he is gone from sight. Someone below is yelling in a voice that might have been his own, and so he banks beneath the clouds to find them without a second thought. It is probably dangerous, he thinks, but less so than falling headfirst into a volcano.
She is not hard to find even in the twilight, the riverlands are empty this time of year and the yellow creature makes no effort to hide herself. Pteron watches, engrossed and somehow grateful for this spectacle that requires all of his attention. He cannot think of Gale while he watches the transformation below him. He has seen shifters before, but this is not the same. Something is different – something is wrong. He cannot being to think of how he might help and so instead he watches, and intangible presence, and lands only when she collapses to the earth.
Pteron wonders if perhaps she is dead. But no, her chest heaves against the hard earth, and Pteron takes a step back lest she rise again. Focused on the fallen mare, he nearly does not notice the arrival of a golden stallion. Not until the crunch of hooves on semi-frozen ground sound closely does he even look up, locking eyes with the stranger. Well, his own eyes lock – Aten will see nothing but empty space.
“She was shifting,” he says, his voice breaking the silence the follows Aten’s question. As the fog of his breath appears in the air, Pteron does as well. He is looking at Vastra rather than Aten, but a single blue ear remains turned toward the unfamiliar stallion as he watches the mare on the ground. “But I think it went wrong.”
@[Vastra]
@[Aten]