Erthë

She hovered in place high above the restless sea, the delicate face a stiff mask of concentration as she struggled to remain on the same spot. Though it looked effortless, her midair dance required minute precision and a thousand small adjustments of muscles, wing position, feather angle and the occasional flick of the tail. The wind was fickle today, undecided between north or west, steady or erratic, warm or cold; but over the course of the day these persistent changes had favored arctic chill a bit more each time, until Erthë imagined she could smell snow in the air again. Surely it wouldn't be long until the next storm blew in now. A week before she could have sworn winter would never arrive, then the skies had opened. Now, the peaks above the Edge stood with powdered hair, glistening and cold in what might well be the last sunshine of the year.

She had really looked forward to it. The warm season had lasted so very long, and it had been much too intense for her taste. Now, give her icy rains and drifting snow, offer her the inky blackness of a midwinter sky and the cold blue light of a distant moon. Give her the vast expanse of the northern tundra, the silence beneath barren trees the birds have long since deserted, and let her sleep peacefully in the pale morning light tucked in safely amidst family and friends...

Wasn't that the way to live.

But, lately, her peaceful existence had trembled at the very foundation. Scars marred her pristine hide and the confidence that had been absolute from the moment she first touched the ground was faltering. Illusions were shattering under her feet like broken glass, the jagged edges cutting her open to the grim reality of her own weakness... and this would not do. How could a follower of the Moon permit herself to be less than fearsome, when the Lady herself could make grown stallions tremble simply by looking at them?

Being weak was unacceptable, and there were certain things she couldn't learn by merely observing. This meant that she had to train, grow strong and wise and able. It meant she had to change, and by the four winds she would!

In a sudden burst of added force the wind changed direction again, and this time the young seraph didn't react in time. She was thrown backwards in the direction of the beach, tumbling through the air like a mad spinning top with swinging legs and wings that flapped desperately to break and level up, or at the very least regain a sense of bearing. Round and round she spun until the world becomes a blur of blue and gray and sandy white, and somewhere in the midst of all of this she noticed something dark in her path where she hadn't seen anything before. Panic only truly grasped hold of her innards when she realized that it was growing larger for each dizzying spin. Unless it proved to be nothing more than a ghost of her mind she was on a collision course with it, and all she could do, it seemed, was to brace herself for impact.

So much for growing stronger. Apparently she should learn how to fly again before trying anything else.  

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PC: 1/3 + closing
WC: 551

Summary:  Erthë is hovering over the ocean when a strong gust blow her backwards. She tumbles toward the beach, loosing height and flailing around wildly to get level. Spots something dark (presumably Tae?) in her general path and braces for impact.

Setting: Endless blue, in the air above the sea about 500m from shore. Windy, midday and overcast, a slight lull between winter storms.

Teaching spar, Odd doing the honors :D

Dice roll: Here