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09-12-2014, 07:47 PM
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Gull
trouble with a side of wings Evening is falling quickly upon the island, and you find yourself restless. Since you don’t much fancy the idea of landing on the rocky peninsula below in the dark, it is too late now to find somewhere else to roost for the night. You’re stuck here until morning. With a heavy sigh and an impatient folding and refolding of black-tipped wings, you cast one last glance back at the meadow, then wander away. Though you will never admit it, what really ails you this evening is not mere idleness nor simple boredom. The island is peaceful and still, and while there is a certain calming air to the place, it’s so quiet. You miss the roar of the ocean, the crash of waves on the rocks, the squawking and wheeling of the seabirds above—and the wind! Instead of the good, strong, salty smell of the sea, everything here smells like these awful cherry blossoms! You swear, after only a few days on this floating hunk of rock, it’s become impossible to catch a whiff of anything (or anyone) else. Kicking at the ground in frustration, you snort, as if your exasperation will erase the pink-tinged aroma that seems to have permeated the entirety of the airspace for a five-mile radius. Your old home was no paradise, but at least you could breathe without choking. Grumbling to yourself in this vein, your hooves carry you, undirected, to the edge of the island, where a stream tumbles over the edge into a miniature waterfall. Subconsciously, you halt. The rushing water is no ocean, but it’s the closest you’ll get to waves tonight. Moodily, you stand beside the drop-off, staring out into the night—you’re leaving first thing in the morning, you decide. You’ve had enough of this frilly, flower-strewn place. You take your sweet time brooding (after all, it is satisfying in its own angsty way), but even that grows tiring after a while and you turn from the stars wearily, intending to find a place to rest. As luck (or really, probability) would have it, the only place nearby is an extensive grove of cherry trees. But it doesn’t matter; you’ll be gone in a matter of hours, so with an irritated eye-roll, you walk into the canopy. Surprisingly, you manage to catch her scent before you see her. Grullo ears stand at alert like twin soldiers startled from sleep when the unmistakable signature signaling “Bell” drifts past your nostrils. As quietly as you can, you inch forward, eyes straining and ears swiveling. She’s got to be somewhere nearby! Sure enough, you finally make out a dark silhouette on the ground just ahead, and your face nearly splits in two with the size of your gleeful smile. Oh Bell, caught snoozing, are we? You’ll give her a nice little surprise to wake up to. Mischievously, you lower yourself to the ground beside her, careful not to make too much noise. @[Bellona] OOC: Sorry for the wait! I assume she’s still awake, but Gull likes to think he’s oh-so-clever and sneaky cx "talk talk talk" |
Please do not tag Gull except for in opening posts or spars!
