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graasvoel
Massive wings flapped. He had been soaring on the thermals that rose from the mountains’ sun-warmed earth, but as the sunset, so did the warmth that created the warm air’s rise. So his vast spread of tawny, ivory, and black feathers cupped the rapidly cooling air as his heavy mass slowly sank down towards the earth. His raptor gaze of red and yellow sharpened on a high, flat field that was blanketed in lilac heather—mostly dried this late in the season. But he could smell it even this high in the sky; his dark nostrils flared and sides expanded as he sank lower, lower.
But attention was drawn from the pleasurable scent by a flutter of scintillating wings. His head cocked slightly as a flail of legs and wings and grasses met his searching eyes. A quick, adjustment of his wings brought his heavy landing closer to the commotion (but his body was so large and giant that making any fine adjustments was difficult). Large hooves crushed the heather beneath them, releasing a newly pungent perfume.
Though his eyes remained trained on the spotted, feminine body (his mind made quick work to that realization) that lay still on the ground—but not entirely still. Pale ears catch the loud sobs and wailed words that rustled through the upturned, dried grass.
He paused for a moment—how ready were his shoulders to be cried on? He rolled them, despite the metaphorical nature of his thoughts; they were pretty ready. Especially for a beautiful woman. So his tawny, feathered limbs took him in slow, heavy steps to the weeping woman.
“I didn’t think I’d meet a vision, today,” his rough voice rumbled as his wings tucked loosely along his thick sides. His head dropped to her level, tufted beard brushing the earth, as his sharp eyes took in the tears and the scuffed knees. Despite her disheveled appearance and mournful keens, the vulture could find the pleasant beauty that hovered beneath her tears.
“What’s troubling a lovely lady like you?” His gruff question was honest and genuine—though it would be a lie to say that he wouldn’t have spared this much attention on a stallion, or less alluring mare.
But attention was drawn from the pleasurable scent by a flutter of scintillating wings. His head cocked slightly as a flail of legs and wings and grasses met his searching eyes. A quick, adjustment of his wings brought his heavy landing closer to the commotion (but his body was so large and giant that making any fine adjustments was difficult). Large hooves crushed the heather beneath them, releasing a newly pungent perfume.
Though his eyes remained trained on the spotted, feminine body (his mind made quick work to that realization) that lay still on the ground—but not entirely still. Pale ears catch the loud sobs and wailed words that rustled through the upturned, dried grass.
He paused for a moment—how ready were his shoulders to be cried on? He rolled them, despite the metaphorical nature of his thoughts; they were pretty ready. Especially for a beautiful woman. So his tawny, feathered limbs took him in slow, heavy steps to the weeping woman.
“I didn’t think I’d meet a vision, today,” his rough voice rumbled as his wings tucked loosely along his thick sides. His head dropped to her level, tufted beard brushing the earth, as his sharp eyes took in the tears and the scuffed knees. Despite her disheveled appearance and mournful keens, the vulture could find the pleasant beauty that hovered beneath her tears.
“What’s troubling a lovely lady like you?” His gruff question was honest and genuine—though it would be a lie to say that he wouldn’t have spared this much attention on a stallion, or less alluring mare.
the vulture feeds while it can
until there's no trace left of man
until there's no trace left of man
@Myrrine
OMG I AM THE WORST
So sorry for the wait <3
Please tag Graasvoel in all posts.
