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08-14-2012, 07:38 PM
[Kri first than any can post as well!] Red dirt has left unsightly smudges against my side. The grit buries in between my hairs and nips at my skin every time I move. In a way, it's an enjoyable sensation, rubbing off dead hair and skin like a comb of fine teeth. Yet in many more ways it's entirely unpleasant, if just because I want to complain and rage. My nightingale has certainly been doing enough of both. She's standing still beside me now - although she hasn't laid down like I did earlier, the dust has still settled against her body and shaded her a darker hue than normal. She's staring intently on the horizon line, but I'm not sure what travels through her mind, which is unusual, though not surprising. This is a new situation for us, being prisoners. "I wonder why they took us," I murmur, hoping to elicit some response from the statue beside me. It does the trick. "It's the wings," Surema says tightly, her jawline clenching. A flicker of a smile settles on my lips. I may not know her thoughts, but I certainly understand how she thinks. Blue eyes catch the smile and they turn steadily towards me. My features fall at once and ears set back in worry. She rarely turns such a cold stare upon me. I think I might shiver in fact. "I'm so glad this is funny to you Olema." Oh my, she's used my actual name, she is rather angry. I sigh gently in a way that it whistles long and low between my teeth. "I do not mean to offend sister, but smiles usually help better than frowns." It does me no well to try and lecture her now. I know she's not so angry as she is scared. She doesn't really know why they took us, and she definitely doesn't know what they have planned for us. She's scared for us, for me especially. How can we fight them, a whole herd, if it comes to that? As expected her frown deepens. This is shortly accompanied by a dismissive snort and her gaze turns away to burn holes into the distance once more. She doesn't want to be angry with me, so she'll ignore me instead. I won't be having any of that though. Gingerly I gather my feet and hoist myself upright. A pale ear flicks in my direction and I can see Surema's lips quiver as though she holds back words. I pause for a moment, willing her to say them, but she only reshuffles her wings nervously. So brave, my nightengale, so strong, yet so frail and frightened at times. "I will hold you until the end," I whisper softly against her ear, still turned towards me, as I slide up against her left side, pushing under her wing. She glances back at me a moment and I am startled by the hurt in her brief gaze. My chest seizes and my stomach twirls. Oh my Nightengale, you should not busy yourself with such dark thoughts... I'm afraid she'll turn herself old before her time, and that just won't do. I can't be seen galavanting around with an old mare when I'm so young and spry! "We will see this through, together, as we always do." My lips peel against my teeth, shiny with a layer of dry-mouthed spit, which I use to pull the red dirt from her coat. Firm with my touch, yet soft as morning mist, I groom the pale withers of Surema. She groans in her throat, a noise of content, though it's still tinged with a sorrow that I hope to work out with the dust. I keep moving my teeth, and gradually, eventually, Surema melts into my touch. For a moment, just a moment, I'm the one leading her, the one standing strong while she huddles in my shadow. I take her wing under mine and I hold her against me and I tell her again, that it will be alright. |
