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OIZYS she's the giggle at a funeral There's another, an intruder on their private moment of wicked laughs and failed flights. He is a he, and he has wings. A horn like her, and wings. This makes him quite interesting. The girl's brow carves itself into a frown, tightening the livid scars on the right side of her face. He advances, prancing, his movements enviable - he is showy and elegant, where Oizys is lumbering and cumbersome. Through narrowed grey eyes, she sees him lower his nose down towards Ker, where she flaps uselessly on the ground. "Don't!" barks the filly, knowing what's coming, feeling the eagle in her mind go !!!!! at the sight of a big muzzle descending on her. Ker strikes, aiming a sharp peck for the flesh between the colt's nostrils. She flutters her wings angrily, ill-tempered and unhappy about being watched at her fail. Oizys' young mind fills with a strange mix of feelings radiating from the chick - she is still getting used to her own mind, her own existence, so to have another presence in her head is quite daunting for one of her tender age. Alas, that's how it happened. The egg hatched for her, and now she's stuck with the useless grey fluffy thing that can't even fly. She feels some, perfunctory affection for Ker, but does not think she would miss the eaglet if she were gone. But their relationship is still fledgling. Maybe when the chick can do more than just flutter and flail, Oizys will find her more appealing. The colt flaps his wings, ruffling Oizys' mane and Ker's feathers. The chick - unable to understand that the boy is trying to help her - aims another ill-tempered nip for his nose, provided he hasn't already retreated after the first. He looks at Oizys, and the fierce young girl meets his gaze, sizing him up. She has never met a boy before, save for Father - but he is all man, and she cannot comprehend that he was ever this small. He gives a name, and Mother has taught the monstrous girl her manners, if little else; "I am Oizys. Be wary of the chick, she has a temper." Her face splits into a wicked grin. "S'nice place, isn't it?" She looks to the lovely bloody waterfall, the eerie trees, the looming shadows. |
@Kvasir
