06-01-2019, 09:21 AM
The air that gusts upward against the cliff is hot and tastes of red sand and stone. Pteron’s position on the narrow bridge of stone is a precarious one, but despite the danger the young stallion appears unperturbed. His wings are spread wide for balance as he moves forward, one hoof in front of the other in something quite akin to balancing on a tightrope. It would have been easier for the dun to simply fly to his perch, but he wants to know how difficult it might be to reach it for someone without wings.
These rocky highlands in the south of Loess have been carved into fantastic shapes by the wind and sea, and Pteron has always known that this is where he would make his nest. It is far enough from his family that he feels independent and difficult enough to reach that he feels secure from anything (incapable of flight) that might try to surprise him while he rested. Overall, an excellent location for a place of his own.
Eventually, he reaches an impasse in his jounrey by foot. The red stone stretches up to straight to climb and too tall to leap. After craning his head and looking over the stone with his olive gaze, Pteron is satisfied that it is not passable. Tilting his weight to the side, he allows himself to simply fall from ledge on which he stands.
For one gut-wrenching moment he simply falls.
Then the wind catches the outstretched plane of his wings and the adrenaline spikes as intensely as the bright white sun overhead. Caught by the wind, he soars outward from the limestone, ever upward. A few tilts of his feathers and tightening of muscle has him gliding to a stop on a stone spire without ever flapping his wings. The updrafts of spring are some of his favorites, and a contented smile dances darts across the young man’s face. Pulling his wings more tightly to his body, Pteron settles himself comfortably on the high peak. He has a good view of Loess from here, but he has no intention of keeping watch – at least not right now.
He’s been trying routes up here all morning and surely deserves a rest. He might try to see how difficult it is to get down in the afternoon, but for now, he intends to sleep. The sun is warm on his piebald back and the sound of the wind on rock soon lulls him to sleep.
@[Catcher]
These rocky highlands in the south of Loess have been carved into fantastic shapes by the wind and sea, and Pteron has always known that this is where he would make his nest. It is far enough from his family that he feels independent and difficult enough to reach that he feels secure from anything (incapable of flight) that might try to surprise him while he rested. Overall, an excellent location for a place of his own.
Eventually, he reaches an impasse in his jounrey by foot. The red stone stretches up to straight to climb and too tall to leap. After craning his head and looking over the stone with his olive gaze, Pteron is satisfied that it is not passable. Tilting his weight to the side, he allows himself to simply fall from ledge on which he stands.
For one gut-wrenching moment he simply falls.
Then the wind catches the outstretched plane of his wings and the adrenaline spikes as intensely as the bright white sun overhead. Caught by the wind, he soars outward from the limestone, ever upward. A few tilts of his feathers and tightening of muscle has him gliding to a stop on a stone spire without ever flapping his wings. The updrafts of spring are some of his favorites, and a contented smile dances darts across the young man’s face. Pulling his wings more tightly to his body, Pteron settles himself comfortably on the high peak. He has a good view of Loess from here, but he has no intention of keeping watch – at least not right now.
He’s been trying routes up here all morning and surely deserves a rest. He might try to see how difficult it is to get down in the afternoon, but for now, he intends to sleep. The sun is warm on his piebald back and the sound of the wind on rock soon lulls him to sleep.
@[Catcher]