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Ru had been hard at work.
The fruits of her labors rested scathingly in the form of a few new scars, pelting across her otherwise unblemished body. A nasty gash that had recently healed over Birdsong rested against her right shoulder, and narrowed across just above her elbow. Sending a lackluster view of skin that hardened, and, would eventually bleach with the arrival of summer.
The others are less notable; a bite mark that hides underneath her feathers along her neck, a few scratches against her rump. Those might heal, perhaps. However she is uncertain if she should hold them preciously like rare jewels to collect and marvel. She rather felt like trash, and she was scrambling to find something of value in the heap she found herself in.
She can imagine where she wants to be; to be strong, defiant, and hungry for the drive that might sustain her. But over the coarse of springtime, she felt… funny, and off. She had no desire to be impregnated, and yet, every now and then a whiff of something unveiled an almost macabre sensation that rattled her senses.
Far, far from the pleasantries of a girl frolicking in the meadows, fluttering her eyelashes to attract – males? Ru grunted and rolled her eyes.
In any case she would have creepily been the one, peeled to the shadows, tracking a scent and observing from a distance. Did it mean anything?
A cry into the air catches her ears instead, as she wanders the Edge. It’s a familiar voice, a commanding voice – and without further delay the winged mare decides to run off into the sky.
Ah – there was another thing. Every now and then, there were these strange lights that appeared out of now where. Was she losing it? Did she get knocked in the head during a fight? With a rattled growl of discontent she elevated into the sky. Catching sight of the stout, striking general, and circled once before landing ahead of the mare.
She made an easy landing; the soreness had since ebbed from her previous fights. Or perhaps she had simply gotten used to them? In any case, she let her voice cross the threshold between them in a curious trill. Some sort of, bird-like noise that cracked slightly, and sung out in a light tune.
The feathered woman – girl (she couldn’t make up her mind about that sometimes), approached Roskuld with a slight tilt to her head. Glancing afterwards, at the hoof trodden grasses that surrounded the immediate area around them.
Where was that thing? She wondered, that creature? It must have a name – maybe she just couldn’t remember it. But it wasn’t with the general, grappling at her butt or dangling off plaintively on the edge.
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