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11-19-2015, 03:32 PM
but somewhere here in between the city walls of dyin' dreams
"He's a flammulated owl."
"Oh."
What was a flammulated owl, anyway? He wasn't sure he had ever heard the word before, and it sounded really weird, like some stupid mixture of flambé and mutated. Flambutated owls... If it hadn't been for the clear and proud way she had pronounced the stupid word he would've thought she'd gotten it wrong, somehow—and that had nothing to do with age. Mauja was sure the only reason he would remember flammulated was because it sounded so darn stupid. Then again, he might as well remember it incorrectly because it sounded like nothing else and for all anyone knew he might as flambutated the next time.
In the back of his head Irma snorted, and flashed him an image of a tiny, black-eyed owl. The size of it was ridiculous. So either flambutated owls were ridiculous or Irma was exaggerating the whole thing.
But then they were moving, slipping through the forest—through the snowfall, like something in the corner of his eye tracked the pattern of the snowflakes and let him weave around it, leaving only his filling hoof prints as proof he had ever passed at all. "Where would you like to go?"
She was radiating warmth in the snow, her feathers whispering as she moved, their tips sometimes stirring the air so close to his skin but never quite touching—shorter legs unfurling to keep a steady pace, hooves and passionflowers finding purchase underneath the white blanket. The falling snow covered those up, too, those wilted corpses, and as he glanced down at her he forced himself to not peer at them. Something about the brief, fragile lives, their beauty and fragrance, broke his frozen heart.
"Anywhere," he simply said after a moment, lapsing into silence as his eyes returned to the winding path ahead of them.
(Anywhere, as long as it is with you—)
She brought him peace.
[ @Naerys || Just have it end here, maybe? <3 And yes to more Maurys. ]
"Oh."
What was a flammulated owl, anyway? He wasn't sure he had ever heard the word before, and it sounded really weird, like some stupid mixture of flambé and mutated. Flambutated owls... If it hadn't been for the clear and proud way she had pronounced the stupid word he would've thought she'd gotten it wrong, somehow—and that had nothing to do with age. Mauja was sure the only reason he would remember flammulated was because it sounded so darn stupid. Then again, he might as well remember it incorrectly because it sounded like nothing else and for all anyone knew he might as flambutated the next time.
In the back of his head Irma snorted, and flashed him an image of a tiny, black-eyed owl. The size of it was ridiculous. So either flambutated owls were ridiculous or Irma was exaggerating the whole thing.
But then they were moving, slipping through the forest—through the snowfall, like something in the corner of his eye tracked the pattern of the snowflakes and let him weave around it, leaving only his filling hoof prints as proof he had ever passed at all. "Where would you like to go?"
She was radiating warmth in the snow, her feathers whispering as she moved, their tips sometimes stirring the air so close to his skin but never quite touching—shorter legs unfurling to keep a steady pace, hooves and passionflowers finding purchase underneath the white blanket. The falling snow covered those up, too, those wilted corpses, and as he glanced down at her he forced himself to not peer at them. Something about the brief, fragile lives, their beauty and fragrance, broke his frozen heart.
"Anywhere," he simply said after a moment, lapsing into silence as his eyes returned to the winding path ahead of them.
(Anywhere, as long as it is with you—)
She brought him peace.
[ @Naerys || Just have it end here, maybe? <3 And yes to more Maurys. ]
man, I ain't changed, but I know I ain't the same
