.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
02-10-2015, 12:40 AM
I'd been flying again. I can't say why I rather prefer the form of the raven other the rest. I suppose its his darkness that appeals to me, and his wings. There's nothing quite like the stolen glimpses of flight that I'm afforded, though I'm nowhere near as good as the actual birds, nor the pegasus. My wet wings make me slow and clumsy, more of a charade than actual function. I think more than the sensation of flight, I delighted in the view. From up high I could see the world laid out before me like a canvas, my brush just waiting to splash upon it. I think it's the only reason I caught sight of her, all of us headed to the boats as requested. I can't tell you what drew me towards her, perhaps the same thing as the raven - her darkness. I fluttered down with a faint flick of black water upon her rump. My wet feet left little ink marks wherever I walked, though they went unnoticed on her equally obsidian hide. I blinked, my beak turning to spy the golden dragon and bore in both marking and soul. She seemed...familiar in the oddest of ways. Ink @[Mirage]  |
Magic or force permitted any time, aside from death.
