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10-08-2012, 10:46 PM
BEYOND HERE LIES NOTHING
Worried not for the time of night that had fallen, he left Cera’s side for a quick flight around their territory and beyond into the darkened forest below. Threshold. It was another cloudy night, icy hints of snow lingering. The warmed air currents of the Throat kept his bulk more easily afloat; here, the cooler updrafts presented more of a challenge. This was part of his training. The muscular tendons along his wings had begun to strengthen, though he grew tired more readily than normal.
Weighted by the magical golden collar around his neck. It hung snugly against his flesh, warm and pulsing with hidden life that only he could summon forth in times of need. Each blessing had a burden to carry, and currently his burden was the weight of each plate and strap. Wings strained to uphold current bulk, the muscles tight and hurting already. He couldn’t stand to fly for long, the distance between the Threshold and Throat was his limit; chest heaved icy air, each breath flooded his lungs. Pelt grew cold as wind dried the wetness along his breast and flank. Tilting down he landed smartly across the ground in a nearby clearing.
Snorting and gasping all at once Midas glanced around to take in surroundings, sore appendages pulled to his sides. Walking felt so much better; in fact, he thought mildly, walking back sounded like a brilliant idea. A musky fragrance tickled his senses, gaze turned to find the source, neck twisted to the right and caught sight of a darkened shadow; partly hidden among the cover of trees. Crunching on frostbitten grass he turned bulk to regard the figure more fully, “Apologizes,” he uttered softly, smoky breath curling air. It was always so hard to tell when someone was hiding among the timbers.
Weighted by the magical golden collar around his neck. It hung snugly against his flesh, warm and pulsing with hidden life that only he could summon forth in times of need. Each blessing had a burden to carry, and currently his burden was the weight of each plate and strap. Wings strained to uphold current bulk, the muscles tight and hurting already. He couldn’t stand to fly for long, the distance between the Threshold and Throat was his limit; chest heaved icy air, each breath flooded his lungs. Pelt grew cold as wind dried the wetness along his breast and flank. Tilting down he landed smartly across the ground in a nearby clearing.
Snorting and gasping all at once Midas glanced around to take in surroundings, sore appendages pulled to his sides. Walking felt so much better; in fact, he thought mildly, walking back sounded like a brilliant idea. A musky fragrance tickled his senses, gaze turned to find the source, neck twisted to the right and caught sight of a darkened shadow; partly hidden among the cover of trees. Crunching on frostbitten grass he turned bulk to regard the figure more fully, “Apologizes,” he uttered softly, smoky breath curling air. It was always so hard to tell when someone was hiding among the timbers.
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