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11-11-2014, 12:50 AM
Fig was not drawn to the beach instinctively. She was a creature of the tropics; of humidity and lush, dense rainforests. Less inviting still was the sour wind which swept a fine, damp mist off the rolling western ocean to burn the delicate evergreen foliage throughout the canopy she carried. It stung her sensitive eyes no matter how defensively she squinted, and infiltrated her billowing lungs, causing her to cough on occasion.
Long, limber branches above - reaching further even than her bobbing black and white face - swayed gently to the soft rhythm of crashing waves, and the young tree-girl ambled awkwardly and gradually down from the northern most rim of ragged forest. She had not before then found a chance to explore the shimmery white stretch of sand which was plainly visible from the cliff top realm above; it’s distant beauty was intriguing though. The thick, flowing hair dressing each of her powerful legs soon matted with sand and tangled into grimy, gluey knots as the water saturated them –as did the long, dragging tail behind. The area nearer to the water, she noted quickly mind due, was far easier to travel across than anything remotely dry and powdery, so she made certain to hug the water closely.
She had only ventured a small way (even that took a considerable length of time), when she thought to turn and retreat. The beach simply wasn’t terrain her cumbersome body was well adapted to crossing after all! No sooner had she paused to weigh her options however, than a blur of movement caught her tiring attention.
The stranger came swiftly forward, unusually thick tendrils of pallid hair streaming to the side – and the tail behind – and Fig propped back across burly black haunches to watch. At first she could see naught but a dismal grey, embellished perhaps with a lighter smear here and there, but the creature (wingless and hornless; simply lovely) was a sight nonetheless. Her stride seemed long and elegant, and the young Lignea marvelled at the speed which seemed so easily to rival the grand pelican soaring to the side, just offshore. Dreamily she wondered what life could be like for those who knew not the pleasure of wood upon their backs; naturally she would have it no other way, but the scene unfolding looked divine.
As the other slowed, stopped and turned to gaze apparently, out across the waves, Fig began forward again. She wandered as quickly as her hefty frame could manage through the sloppy sand (which wasn’t very quick at all), to perhaps meet the other, a broadening smile dressing her large, white-blazed face. “Hello there!” She called out cheerfully, perhaps overly so, but the naive Lignea was yet to discover any who were less than forthcoming.
Long, limber branches above - reaching further even than her bobbing black and white face - swayed gently to the soft rhythm of crashing waves, and the young tree-girl ambled awkwardly and gradually down from the northern most rim of ragged forest. She had not before then found a chance to explore the shimmery white stretch of sand which was plainly visible from the cliff top realm above; it’s distant beauty was intriguing though. The thick, flowing hair dressing each of her powerful legs soon matted with sand and tangled into grimy, gluey knots as the water saturated them –as did the long, dragging tail behind. The area nearer to the water, she noted quickly mind due, was far easier to travel across than anything remotely dry and powdery, so she made certain to hug the water closely.
She had only ventured a small way (even that took a considerable length of time), when she thought to turn and retreat. The beach simply wasn’t terrain her cumbersome body was well adapted to crossing after all! No sooner had she paused to weigh her options however, than a blur of movement caught her tiring attention.
The stranger came swiftly forward, unusually thick tendrils of pallid hair streaming to the side – and the tail behind – and Fig propped back across burly black haunches to watch. At first she could see naught but a dismal grey, embellished perhaps with a lighter smear here and there, but the creature (wingless and hornless; simply lovely) was a sight nonetheless. Her stride seemed long and elegant, and the young Lignea marvelled at the speed which seemed so easily to rival the grand pelican soaring to the side, just offshore. Dreamily she wondered what life could be like for those who knew not the pleasure of wood upon their backs; naturally she would have it no other way, but the scene unfolding looked divine.
As the other slowed, stopped and turned to gaze apparently, out across the waves, Fig began forward again. She wandered as quickly as her hefty frame could manage through the sloppy sand (which wasn’t very quick at all), to perhaps meet the other, a broadening smile dressing her large, white-blazed face. “Hello there!” She called out cheerfully, perhaps overly so, but the naive Lignea was yet to discover any who were less than forthcoming.
