What a lovely way to burn
She hadn’t meant to come back. Hell, she hadn’t meant to leave either, but shit happens.
With a huff, she scowls down at the meadow, trying to decide if it’s even worth landing. Maybe she should just keep flying. Nothing for her here anyway. Except dad. Maybe. Hell, she never knows where he is anyway. She hasn’t seen him in ages. He sure as shit didn’t know how to raise a kid, so what the hell had they been expecting? They’d be one big happy family?
Yeah, no. She’d left the minute she got a chance. Not like he’d been the most present parent anyway. But hey, she’s alive and that’s what counts right? Sure.
She drifts along a draft, staring down at the distant land as she debates the actual benefits of stopping here. Maybe Hawthorn was around. Not that she knew him that well. Fuck, he’s her twin and she barely even remembers what he looks like anyway. Awkward.
What the hell. Worth a look around she supposes.
Banking, she presses her wings against her sides and allows herself to plummet, feet stretched forward. The sudden thrill sets her pulse to racing and brings a giddy joy to her breast. The one damn thing she could count on to make her happy. Danger. Maybe she is more fucked up than she’d been imagining.
She is almost too close to the ground when she finally snaps her massive black wings wide, using them to break her fall. The wind whooshing past her as she backwings dramatically, she stumbles into a land, loping a few hard steps to release the pent up momentum of her fall. In the process, she nearly stumbles right into a rather banged up stallion. “Hey!” she shouts, jerking sideways to trot the last few steps past him, scowl returning to her lips.
When she finally stumbles to a halt, she pivots eyes (odd eyes, one brown, one red) following the trail of death in his wake before the land on him with surprising ferocity. “Hey dickhead!” she shouts again. “Maybe leave some alive for the rest of us. A girl’s gotta eat y’know.”
Large frame settling, she ruffles her wings against her dark sides as she takes a few steps forward. Maybe she should think twice about confronting a stallion who absently trails dead flora in his wake, but no one has ever accused her of having sense. Besides, she’s big and burly and a little mean looking. Somehow, she always manages to win the fights she picks.
