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05-07-2016, 01:41 PM
Reserving judgements is a matter of infinite hope.
You hadn't noticed her. Why would you? The sky was a realm far more fascinating than the trees behind you, and the clouds and wind were no doubt a better friend than any you would find among equine kin. No horse could make your heart flutter a rapid and enthralled beat; no horse could compare to the sea's sweet and lethal calling.
The storm is racing closer, but the rain is still a ways off.
You have time, even if it's running out.
What you hadn't expected was a high and feminine chirp demanding your attention, forcing your concentration away from the stormwall and back to the inland. You don't question the demand; you are submissive and small, content to follow orders rather than issue them. You turn your head to her, wind snagging in your feathers, and knit your brows in empty-headed confusion. You don't quite understand what she means—you couldn't jump! You would die. Did she want you to die?
You tilt your head and examine the other filly for a long moment, wondering who she was, wondering where her parents were. Then again, someone could ask the same of yourself.
It doesn't matter anyway, you decide. If she's out here, calling to you, then there's only one explaination: she wants to have a friend. You need friends as well, so you offer a wide and wild grin, prancing away from the cliff's edge towards her. You are neither graceful nor steady; you wobble and lurch and occasionally stumble, still at war with your too-long legs. "Only if you jump first," you tell her, but it's not a threat so much as an invitation.
Yeah, do it—jump. Your head swivels comically to the other girl (there are too many girls now, you decide) and you ogle her, wondering if the two fillies are deranged or just dumb. They look vaguely similar, but you don't really have a concept of twins pinned down in your brain yet.
Instead of answering you wiggle yourself a little closer to the gray-eyed one, with the ball of feathers on her shoulders.
"I can't," you tell them morosely, "Ma and Pa say I'm not allowed flying until I'm older. But we could play tag...?"
image creditsThe storm is racing closer, but the rain is still a ways off.
You have time, even if it's running out.
What you hadn't expected was a high and feminine chirp demanding your attention, forcing your concentration away from the stormwall and back to the inland. You don't question the demand; you are submissive and small, content to follow orders rather than issue them. You turn your head to her, wind snagging in your feathers, and knit your brows in empty-headed confusion. You don't quite understand what she means—you couldn't jump! You would die. Did she want you to die?
You tilt your head and examine the other filly for a long moment, wondering who she was, wondering where her parents were. Then again, someone could ask the same of yourself.
It doesn't matter anyway, you decide. If she's out here, calling to you, then there's only one explaination: she wants to have a friend. You need friends as well, so you offer a wide and wild grin, prancing away from the cliff's edge towards her. You are neither graceful nor steady; you wobble and lurch and occasionally stumble, still at war with your too-long legs. "Only if you jump first," you tell her, but it's not a threat so much as an invitation.
Yeah, do it—jump. Your head swivels comically to the other girl (there are too many girls now, you decide) and you ogle her, wondering if the two fillies are deranged or just dumb. They look vaguely similar, but you don't really have a concept of twins pinned down in your brain yet.
Instead of answering you wiggle yourself a little closer to the gray-eyed one, with the ball of feathers on her shoulders.
"I can't," you tell them morosely, "Ma and Pa say I'm not allowed flying until I'm older. But we could play tag...?"
@Enyo
