09-12-2021, 05:46 PM
sickle
Although the storm had taken her by surprise, Sickle doesn’t mind the rain - especially now that she’s not a small bug that will get squashed by the raindrops. Her eyes widen a little further in their amazement when the other girl admits that the storm is her doing. Sickle has met a bunch of interesting individuals in her short life - but not one of them could control the weather.
Or, influence it anyway - since the storm quickly doesn’t seem like it’s being controlled at all. Sickle’s attention isn’t on the dark clouds, though, she’s looking at the storm-maker with obvious awe. “It’s pretty impressive!” She manages to get this truth out in a normal voice just before the rain begins to pour down on them.
“Why make it stop?!” Sickle shouts over the thundering noise of the rain - a bright laugh peeling out of her as she bucks. A storm like this demands one of two things - running around like an idiot or taking shelter. And there’s no shelter nearby so Sickle thinks the answer is pretty obvious. She whoops in delight as her short mane becomes plastered to her iridescent skin and she prances around, trodding flowers into the puddles forming while the ground can’t soak up the water fast enough to keep up.
“Well come on!” The words come carried with another loud laugh, the greys and greens of the setting bleeding through on the brindles of Sickle's coat and making her match the storm itself.
Or, influence it anyway - since the storm quickly doesn’t seem like it’s being controlled at all. Sickle’s attention isn’t on the dark clouds, though, she’s looking at the storm-maker with obvious awe. “It’s pretty impressive!” She manages to get this truth out in a normal voice just before the rain begins to pour down on them.
“Why make it stop?!” Sickle shouts over the thundering noise of the rain - a bright laugh peeling out of her as she bucks. A storm like this demands one of two things - running around like an idiot or taking shelter. And there’s no shelter nearby so Sickle thinks the answer is pretty obvious. She whoops in delight as her short mane becomes plastered to her iridescent skin and she prances around, trodding flowers into the puddles forming while the ground can’t soak up the water fast enough to keep up.
“Well come on!” The words come carried with another loud laugh, the greys and greens of the setting bleeding through on the brindles of Sickle's coat and making her match the storm itself.
@parish