Disappointment would have to wait for a day when the present didn’t claw at yonder door screaming for attention. It made no sense to squander the hours away in a web of selfpity that wouldn’t and couldn’t be changed by even a heavenly host. So with a heaving sigh I released my pent up concerns to the wind. Our past couldn’t be changed, nor would the hours be unwritten. A stronger smile laces across the dark recess of my face, a sign of patient willingness to participate in whatever aspect of Ranjiris young life was allowed.

“Okay,” she said after a brief pause. My brows notch up curiously when the little lass swiveled head round in search of some missing prize. A gleaming spark of excitement carried goldenrods to her quivering form with an enduring affection for the offspring of my beloved, I didn’t have to wait nor wonder for long before she ventured a question, “Why don’t you go first?”

As if on cue my ivories fell apart from flesh. Cooler air washes toward the warm fur which had been under a weighted blanket of feather. Retracing my steps in reverse I note that her crimson orbs are upon me with causal intent—though she is likely watching with an almost hungry appetite. Some lessons were best taught by those of similar traits. Ears slip ahead and my head bounces in a playful nod that sends patched strands splaying across my neck, “To the sky then.”

Graceful as a dancer I tuck and turn, heading away from them at a controllable canter. Fina opens her fiery limbs and glides ahead. Ivories splay apart, rotating toward the breeze, eager to embrace the most perfect abyss. Gold tips brush earth for only a moment, one powerful down stroke later my feet are inches from sand. Another, thrice, I’ve tucked limbs toward chest and am soaring ahead. Tail fans out from behind and the strong Southern breeze fills out my feathers.

A sharp bank and my direction is toward them. There are other (creative) ways I could be of service to the gilded babe. Sand pools up from below, directly ahead. Thousands upon thousands, nay billions of granules rise up from the belly of our dragon. They stack themselves up, higher and higher they climb until a small mound that oddly takes the shape of a ramp comes to form. A temporary sheet of gold slides across, hardening the surface so that smaller feet might find steadier support. Calling from overhead I utter, “Ye might find yonder mound useful.” It was only a hunch that she might need to use it.

OOC: So sorry this took so long ;__; I've been sick, busy.