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Fuck. Something is clinging to my left wing, dragging on me. I turn my neck to see what it is, but then I feel my right hoof get snared, too. Twigs covered in fuzzy little buds are poking through my feathers. “Damn it!” I flap hard with my right wing, trying to capture whatever is left of my flagging momentum, but the worthless appendage only flails helplessly and tangles me further in the arbor, and now I’m definitely not flying anymore. I’m not exactly still either, though. I’m just kind of stuck awkwardly up in some big tree, shifting and swaying and trying to move about enough to kick myself free.
Pegasus aren’t actually birds, and we aren’t actually really built to perch in trees, and so it’s not really terribly surprising that instead of successfully taking off, I find myself tumbling down through the branches with a raucous clatter. At least I hear a couple satisfying cracks from the thinner limbs - if I’m going down, you’re coming with me, you fucking branches. My instincts help me out and my wings outstretch and begin to beat hard of their own accord, slowing my fall enough that I do not become a splattered mess of guts and gore soaking into the damp ground. Instead, I land in a heap on my side – a muddled mess of sticks and mud and feathers and fur.
Ow. But at least it’s not R.I.P. Nimue. That would be embarrassing.
I can feel the bruise forming along my shoulder as I push myself upright onto four hooves again. I’m not gonna lie: it feels pretty good. Pretty badass. I shake vigorously, shedding some of the looser artifacts from my coat and wings. Finally, I look around. Indeed, it’s a forest. What a surprise. It’s dense and dark here, but my eyes adjust, and it’s kind of hauntingly pretty. You just feel so connected and small when you're alone out here, you know?
OOC: Writing new characters is weird, sorry! I'd like to get her hooked up with the Throat or Edge but hey, the more the merrier.
Everything that shine ain't always gonna be gold.
