The night drew on as any other quiet night between the sisters. They peruse their respective snacks, lie around, gab and joke – Wrena delights in poking fun at Oly’s awkwardness, but they both know who’s the wiser of the two. Suddenly Oly’s antennae flick forward, they’re neither of a horse nor of a moth, but both. She’s got little cup-like ears like any pony, but their tips extend just a bit further, curling at their edges and adorned with long sensitive hairs. Her legs sport the same feely-hairs, like soft whiskers from her knees down to her odd little four-toed feet. She is silent when she steps and when she flies, just as any moth when it dances in the moonlight. Her nose is like a typical horse’s snout, save for its more narrow features to allow her to have a proboscis. Her wings somehow meld naturally, folding uniquely against her ribs and unfolding to spread full length at her sides. When she flies it is obvious that a current of magic lifts her, not the strength of her paper wings; she becomes weightless in flight. Wrena is not weightless, but uses the strength of her reptilian wings to their full ability. Like a flying stone – and still she finds grace as she flies, but it is not like her elder sister.
Oly whistles, it is an alert sound. Wrena springs to her feet and tips her ears toward the sound of voices and footfall. Oly’s sensitive eyes, large and pale green, with exquisite ability to see in the darkness, they see something flitting around in the sky. It all seems to happen rather fast, but smooth still, and by the time either sister could truly process that this was an approach; the golden stallion was already standing there before them.
“Evening.” Wrena’s hissing voice stirs the warm summer air and she comes forward to stand at her sisters shoulder. Oleandar remains silent, blinking calmly as she looks him over politely. The bay dragon-girl is not polite, but lets her fiery eyes rove over him head to toe, tail to nose. Smoke curls from her nostrils, dancing threateningly from her muzzle only to dissipate. She takes in a deep breath, “And who’re you?” Wrena quirks her head to the side, her tone rather accusatory. Oly snorts softly, “Well I am Oleandar, this is my sister Wrena.” She gives her sister a little ‘down, killer’ look and Wrena curls her lip at her pale sister. “And this is a lovely night, no intrusion at all. We’re just travelers enjoying the moonlight,” She offers a smiles, “and nectar.” She giggles, licking her lips with a ‘yummm’ hum.
i've got no roots,
oleandar & wrena
but my home was never on the ground
@[Aten] <3