12-23-2020, 10:41 PM
She's always been fond of birds.
It was fitting that she found the Bird that was inside of her but taking its shape had not taught her a great deal more about them, except for the great trouble of keeping feathers in order, of their care, and of the way the wind billows over them, how one feather shifted when it should not be can send her wheeling through the sky.
It's been a long time since that happened - by accident, anyway.
They say you learn to recognize a shifter, and that can be true, to an extent. Most only play at being the creature whose skin they are wearing. It's rare that the animal takes them over, it's rare that they learn the way they speak well enough to fool anyone but other horses. The Bird did not teach her to speak like the birds, after all, and much of her avian, feral nature has always been there. Popinjay has learned through study the ways to communicate simple information (that she is not a threat, or that she is.)
From high in the heavens, she coasts the thermals, and she watches.
The hawk is up to something, she doesn't wheel or dive, she is not hunting, at least, not for the usual sort of prey. She does not circle a territory but streaks across the sky like an arrow, single-minded, across many. She isn't watching for crows or other hawks. It is not very correct behavior, for a hawk. Her wings are not designed for this sort of flight, so it's no surprise that she tires.
And, for Poppy, it is no surprise when she shifts, either.
The tiger shape suits the shifter better, the Rook thinks, flying lower. It seems more natural, but of course, Popinjay has made no study of tigers.
The Bird always feels so much more serious than the Mare. When the palomino shifts, gleaming blue and bloody, Poppy lands nearby, small and bay, her own mouth in its usual grin.
None of them are what they used to be, but the Nerininan does not let regret weight her wings. Nor does she let caution slow her steps to the somber girl.
"Y'know, if you're tryna get somewhere fast, there's better birds to be than a hawk. Although, they're not as cool looking." She rolls her shoulders, nonchalant, "Can't win 'em all, I guess."
It was fitting that she found the Bird that was inside of her but taking its shape had not taught her a great deal more about them, except for the great trouble of keeping feathers in order, of their care, and of the way the wind billows over them, how one feather shifted when it should not be can send her wheeling through the sky.
It's been a long time since that happened - by accident, anyway.
They say you learn to recognize a shifter, and that can be true, to an extent. Most only play at being the creature whose skin they are wearing. It's rare that the animal takes them over, it's rare that they learn the way they speak well enough to fool anyone but other horses. The Bird did not teach her to speak like the birds, after all, and much of her avian, feral nature has always been there. Popinjay has learned through study the ways to communicate simple information (that she is not a threat, or that she is.)
From high in the heavens, she coasts the thermals, and she watches.
The hawk is up to something, she doesn't wheel or dive, she is not hunting, at least, not for the usual sort of prey. She does not circle a territory but streaks across the sky like an arrow, single-minded, across many. She isn't watching for crows or other hawks. It is not very correct behavior, for a hawk. Her wings are not designed for this sort of flight, so it's no surprise that she tires.
And, for Poppy, it is no surprise when she shifts, either.
The tiger shape suits the shifter better, the Rook thinks, flying lower. It seems more natural, but of course, Popinjay has made no study of tigers.
The Bird always feels so much more serious than the Mare. When the palomino shifts, gleaming blue and bloody, Poppy lands nearby, small and bay, her own mouth in its usual grin.
None of them are what they used to be, but the Nerininan does not let regret weight her wings. Nor does she let caution slow her steps to the somber girl.
"Y'know, if you're tryna get somewhere fast, there's better birds to be than a hawk. Although, they're not as cool looking." She rolls her shoulders, nonchalant, "Can't win 'em all, I guess."
@[breach]