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GULL
trouble just grew wings
You’ve lost her, that much you know for a fact. Brow furrows in worry, and blue eyes flit to the horizon once more, as if looking for the thousandth time will reveal a tiny pink figure in the distance. But there is nothing, no one. Muriel is nowhere to be found.
There had been an explosion; that you also know. The hows and whys remain unclear, but not a week ago, the island had blown apart, separating the two of you in the infancy of your…well...—and here a faint smile tugs at your lips—...you don’t know whether to call your time together a romance or a mere twist of fate, but the few days you spent with her are ones that you know you will never forget. The four-winged mare understood you in a way that no one else had before, and in the end, what you shared with Muriel was enough to keep you looking through the rubble for hours after the world had (quite literally) fallen apart.
When you didn't find her amongst the wreckage, there was no reason for you to continue searching. After all, it had been very possible that she was, in fact, dead. Yet you refuse to believe it—not out of naivety, for you have seen mortality slip from more souls than you care to remember—but out of some premonition, a gnawing feeling that she was out there somewhere. And so you took wing, flying north and searching for her all the way. How could you not try, when she herself had given you this new hope?
Tired gaze lowers once more, scanning the ground below. Nothing to the east, nothing to the wes—wait. A patch of color bleeds onto the icy plain, a defiant sign of life pulsing in reds and blues and greens…your breath catches in your throat, and your eyes strain to confirm the bizarre truth. It couldn’t be…but it is: Bellona moves ahead, picking her way across the tundra.
Muriel is temporarily forgotten in the shock of the moment, concern over her replaced by the strange mix of emotions that washes over you as you stare down at Bell, hardly daring to believe that this is not some illusion of an exhausted mind. First and foremost, you are curious—the bird has either been gone for several seasons or has hidden herself very well indeed, for you have not seen hide nor hair of her since before the snows came and went. And secondly…well, you choose to brush the other feelings aside because their very occurrences confuse you. Indignation and relief don’t mix well, especially when you have no particular reason to feel such things about Bell. You hardly know her, you remind yourself.
But, a familiar face is a familiar face, and for this reason you allow yourself to sweep downward and greet her. Your long shadow is your only herald as you glide irritatingly close overhead, and then you drop to the earth before her with practiced ease and your signature self-satisfied smile. And then you turn to face her, twinkling eyes meeting a pair of sharp yellow ones for the first time in months. “Well, well, well,” you drawl lazily, massive wings stretching and resettling neatly on your charcoal back. “What have we here?”
@[Bellona]
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[O] like a bomb set off quietly in the night
