07-07-2019, 01:37 PM
Aodhán
ice and fire
All that is gold does not glitter; not all who wander are lost
The icy-coloured male before him seems to switch into some kind of teacher modus, which allows Aodhán to study his companion. He wants to ask, about the wings, if they had been generated like his own or if they were invisible or if perhaps it was only wings the guy could summon; but then a suggestion that the gold-spotted baroque had already forgotten about, captures his attention once more.
Pteron talked about take-off being the hardest part, which causes only a tiny millisecond of doubt - he’d always assumed it would be landing without breaking anything - but then the following question seems right up the knabstrupper hybrid’s alley. With a nod, he looks to his companion. ”I suppose. I haven’t been able to study shifting, or other creatures, much.” But now Turul’s short appearance came in handy. Closing his eyes in concentration, the young stallion tries to remember the falcon’s shape. His wings are already in the right shape, but the roundness of the bird of prey’s body is slightly trickier to remember. Yet, tied with the earlier subconscious shift, it is doable - when he opens his eyes to the white-and-cream male, they are no longer at (relatively) similar height; much smaller is the white falcon, who is curiously inspecting himself, minor changes sharpening the bird’s features as he finds the missing details.
Looking up with his head tilted sideways, he considers. A vantage point is what he needs - especially if Pteron wants to fly, too. ”I should have thought this through some more.” Aodháns voice seems edgy, caw-like, and he shakes his feathered head as he hears it, dismissing the change as minor and temporary. ”Uhm, can you maybe, bow or something so I can climb to your shoulder?”
Pteron talked about take-off being the hardest part, which causes only a tiny millisecond of doubt - he’d always assumed it would be landing without breaking anything - but then the following question seems right up the knabstrupper hybrid’s alley. With a nod, he looks to his companion. ”I suppose. I haven’t been able to study shifting, or other creatures, much.” But now Turul’s short appearance came in handy. Closing his eyes in concentration, the young stallion tries to remember the falcon’s shape. His wings are already in the right shape, but the roundness of the bird of prey’s body is slightly trickier to remember. Yet, tied with the earlier subconscious shift, it is doable - when he opens his eyes to the white-and-cream male, they are no longer at (relatively) similar height; much smaller is the white falcon, who is curiously inspecting himself, minor changes sharpening the bird’s features as he finds the missing details.
Looking up with his head tilted sideways, he considers. A vantage point is what he needs - especially if Pteron wants to fly, too. ”I should have thought this through some more.” Aodháns voice seems edgy, caw-like, and he shakes his feathered head as he hears it, dismissing the change as minor and temporary. ”Uhm, can you maybe, bow or something so I can climb to your shoulder?”
@[Pteron]