M E G A E R A

passionately smashin’ every expectation

Dawn broke over the desert with a misty magnificence, sending forth the first glowing rays of the sun over the chilled sands. Forestall had brought cold nights to the desert but each morning their own fiery orb would rise and warm them again. By the time Meg was up and about the peeking sun was only just beginning to chase away the chill and a thin fog still hugged the ground. With sweet murmurs and a kiss to each little forehead, she had left her twins sleeping under the watchful eye of their avian uncle and made her way to the arena.

She could have chosen any place for her morning exercises, gods knew the dunes had plenty of open spaces, but the Sultana like using the arena when she could. There was a ritual to it, a sense of purpose, and though she would spend most of her time in the sky, she enjoyed starting from the same place. From the oasis to the metal-ringed arena Meg came already clad in leather and steel. If armor was only worn in battle it became unfamiliar, ungainly, and dangerous so the battledore kept hers in good use. It was becoming like a second skin, the thick layers conforming now to her shape instead of yearning for the old soldier who had donned it before her. Megaera covered the distance at an energized canter with her wings outstretched, using it as a warm-up and kicked up her speed only when she passed through the gap in the metal barriers. 

She crossed the arena with quickening strides and with a few practiced sweeps of her wings, caught the air and litter herself into the air, where the darkness of night gave way to the breaking of the dawn. The sun’s rays struck her when she lifted above the fog-cover, like a jolt to the system and balm to the soul. Up and up she lifted herself, high over the arena and into the clear blue with a smile as wide as the horizon. What a way to start the day! And now to work… She shifted, angled and aimed herself toward the ground again where the arena looked like a small hoop. Her descent followed a practiced pattern as she worked on tight turns. It was an art, knowing which feathers to move, which muscles to flex, and though she might already be quite accomplished the Sunspear would not be satisfied. She corkscrewed toward the sand, changing the spiral’s direction at regular intervals before skimming over the fog cover and heading straight back up again.



ooc::
words::435
attack:: 0/3
summary:: Meg’s doing loop-de-loops above the arena, having a jolly ol’ time.

@Einarr :: Extended Timeline :: Dragon’s Throat Arena :: Sunrise :: Air is chilly, thin fog on the ground, clear above 15’ :: Meg is wearing her armor, Gwaihir is not present