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06-03-2017, 02:55 PM
graasvoel
Wings soared over the thermals of Orangemoon; though, as the days slowly shortened, the massive vulture was finding thermals powerful enough to support his massive body only further and further south. So he left the depths of the Forest (and his Queen with her partner), flapping into the skies and sought the warmer south.
Sharp, red raptor eyes narrowed on the gathering of bodies that were more just shadows against the blinding mirror that was the salt flats he flew over. While the vulture enjoyed soaring for the relief from the heat it provided and the opportunities it usually brought him to, he lately had avoided it. He had avoided most anytime to be alone with his own mind—too many conflicting thoughts and emotions warred within the confines on his starkly white skull.
So, he slowly spiraled down from his great soaring height, seeking a distracting amongst this curious gathering of equines. Who gathered in the midst of a salt flat? In a spray of crystalline droplets that scattered mahogany polkadots on his thick russet hide, he landed in the shallow and briny water.
His ears perked forward, wings folding loosely to his sides, allowing the light and cool breeze to still reach the patchwork of sweat on his flanks—but all movement ceased at he spotted one particularly small and winged form amongst all the others.
His ears tipped back, mind screeching to flee; but the guilty weight in his barrel was too heavy to allow him to fly. And his heart—the great organ beast so fast that he felt it would burst in his chest. So he stayed, head dropping slightly (more to her level), as his eyes did not leave her.
“Hallo, hommelby,” the gruff words were a choked whisper—but they showed he had listened to the last time she spoke. He had heard every word; his mind had replayed them. She liked bees better than butterflies. Her name—her name was Melita. But he couldn't quite push that out of his tight throat.
hommelby = bumblebee
Sharp, red raptor eyes narrowed on the gathering of bodies that were more just shadows against the blinding mirror that was the salt flats he flew over. While the vulture enjoyed soaring for the relief from the heat it provided and the opportunities it usually brought him to, he lately had avoided it. He had avoided most anytime to be alone with his own mind—too many conflicting thoughts and emotions warred within the confines on his starkly white skull.
So, he slowly spiraled down from his great soaring height, seeking a distracting amongst this curious gathering of equines. Who gathered in the midst of a salt flat? In a spray of crystalline droplets that scattered mahogany polkadots on his thick russet hide, he landed in the shallow and briny water.
His ears perked forward, wings folding loosely to his sides, allowing the light and cool breeze to still reach the patchwork of sweat on his flanks—but all movement ceased at he spotted one particularly small and winged form amongst all the others.
His ears tipped back, mind screeching to flee; but the guilty weight in his barrel was too heavy to allow him to fly. And his heart—the great organ beast so fast that he felt it would burst in his chest. So he stayed, head dropping slightly (more to her level), as his eyes did not leave her.
“Hallo, hommelby,” the gruff words were a choked whisper—but they showed he had listened to the last time she spoke. He had heard every word; his mind had replayed them. She liked bees better than butterflies. Her name—her name was Melita. But he couldn't quite push that out of his tight throat.
hommelby = bumblebee
@Melita Following the SS drop?
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