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05-19-2017, 05:34 PM
Stellaluna...
A hot swirl of measured breath warms the bat’s unblemished, ebon-black face and the chill of fright within, the knots of uncertainty suddenly budding beneath the murky mood of her canvas, all are quickly soothed away by the tender touch of giant whiskered lips. At the same time, a shower of gentle concern and equally soft words spill down upon her, like new summer’s cozy heat; the tiny, sunken skull nods (pressing ever so quietly against the comfort of connection), understanding, acknowledging, and appreciating. Pale blue irises, still slim rings around the glint of huge night-pupils, venture out from their cover of skin and breath to discern the difference mentioned, and there indeed was the shining, impassible gulf between glass and freedom. As though to clarify the point about glass further, a chubby, pink-cheeked blossom clothed in a frill of floral scarlet, tip-toed out from the middle of a hollowed log (two shier nuts remained) to rap her puny fist against the spear’s smooth, cold surface. Slight, cupped ears flick forward curiously, hesitantly, as though each strike of that dainty hand might resonate in wild song through the strange tide of mist, but not a sound pierced the eerie silence - not even the mutter of a mother squirrel, who’s three fluffy children were bothered by voices. Pensive, cautious gaze drifts higher then, drinking in queer alien detail to find the sharply pointed peak of another spindly fragment; from there she traces the jagged, unfriendly looking top-line until it vanishes west into the woody darkness. Wings lessen their rigid embrace across shivering flesh and the pup is enticed back into the crisp open night air; the thrilling new world of coniferous forest, by the lure of diverting conversation. A whole new string of words, ideas, concepts, compels her focus; her’s is an insatiable appetite, hungry for knowledge, excitement, and now, poised before the towering feathered figure with an upturned chin and bold, inquisitive eyes (wonderfully fast is her forgetfulness), the curious little bat’s thoughts revel in the rainbow-light of an overactive imagination. Though she is tempted to lie, to feign disability and attract real need of a ‘Moon Doctor’s healing,’ Stellaluna’s pure heart stands true; she smiles gently, bravely, and hums, “I’m not hurt.” The bat has seen severity in her brief time, witnessed the cruel hand of the ‘mega-pack’ (the bad, bad Banksia’s and their terrible leader Mrs Snake!); she knows the wicked glint of blood and the glaze of an agonised eye - so her reassurance was in good faith. Also inspired by the revelation of ‘jobs’, she is visibly eager to divert the topic from herself. “Moon Doctor?” The pup is now poised before the towering feathered figure with an upturned chin and bold, inquisitive eyes (wonderfully fast is her forgetfulness); thoughts revel in the rainbow-light of an overactive imagination. The terms used by the giantess speak volumes to the creative pup - though one lingers in the forefront of her mind as only skeletal concepts. “Sneaking (a delicate note of thrill ignites in her feathery voice), is just how Mr Fox goes about, he's clever.” Though she dabbles distractedly in her own girth of experience, it is clear that she figures the basic notion… “Time heals all wounds, Ma says… and rivers and wind carve deep valleys between mountains.” Almost as quickly as the flare of words began, she falls into thoughtful silence. “…but what is liphos… lisophes… But what are the other ones?” The vulnerable bat has lingered earth-side for too long, and her naked wings part, promptly pulling her into the arms of Old Juniper (who had previously kept her) - he meets her return with an audible groan. "Turn on the dark, I'm afraid of the light!" |
@Lyanna - sorry for the wait, I was holidaying without internet. If the break killed your muse for this, I don't mind winding it up <3
