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Multihued wings flapped— it felt good to stretch them but now they were growing tired. He had spent a long while in the World’s Edge, following (or trying to) Orithia around. That damned desert rose was more thorns than petals, and he was beginning to despair that he’d never actually see or feel her petals on, around, or beneath him. What a frustrating woman.
So, to distance himself from the rejection (that, truthfully, was making him sore in places no stallion should be sore) and exercise the great wings (since those were the only muscles getting any action) he took to the skies to explore Helovia.
The land was vast, and he was glad that he spent so long resting and recovering his strength while wooing (hah) the desert rose. And the land was warming up, growing much warming than the cold plateaus of snow and constant, frigid winds. Even in the summer, the chilling zephyrs did not release Korofi from their icy kisses.
So, as the vulture flew south, the heat began to grow intolerable, especially over the mirrored salt flats that threw the sun’s rays into his eyes. It grew cooler as he crossed over the undulating seas, but the man was still soaked in sweat, hair sticking to his massive body, as his gigantic hooves crashed and sank into the wet sand.
Labored breaths moved his thick sides. He didn’t fully fold his wings for fear of tying up; it had been a long flight and he didn’t trust his muscles not to cramp immediately, so his abnormally large wings spread out beside him. A bright yellow, raptor stare studied the world around him— what a strange place. It was unlike anything he had ever seen.
The water was beautiful, to be certain. The man had spent most of his life admiring beauty, albeit of mares, but he still knew a fine view when he saw it. A cool ocean breeze ruffled his feathers, giving brief respite from the noon’s beating rays. “If not for the sun, I could get used to a view like this,” he muttered gruffly to himself, sweat dripping on the wet sand.
So, to distance himself from the rejection (that, truthfully, was making him sore in places no stallion should be sore) and exercise the great wings (since those were the only muscles getting any action) he took to the skies to explore Helovia.
The land was vast, and he was glad that he spent so long resting and recovering his strength while wooing (hah) the desert rose. And the land was warming up, growing much warming than the cold plateaus of snow and constant, frigid winds. Even in the summer, the chilling zephyrs did not release Korofi from their icy kisses.
So, as the vulture flew south, the heat began to grow intolerable, especially over the mirrored salt flats that threw the sun’s rays into his eyes. It grew cooler as he crossed over the undulating seas, but the man was still soaked in sweat, hair sticking to his massive body, as his gigantic hooves crashed and sank into the wet sand.
Labored breaths moved his thick sides. He didn’t fully fold his wings for fear of tying up; it had been a long flight and he didn’t trust his muscles not to cramp immediately, so his abnormally large wings spread out beside him. A bright yellow, raptor stare studied the world around him— what a strange place. It was unlike anything he had ever seen.
The water was beautiful, to be certain. The man had spent most of his life admiring beauty, albeit of mares, but he still knew a fine view when he saw it. A cool ocean breeze ruffled his feathers, giving brief respite from the noon’s beating rays. “If not for the sun, I could get used to a view like this,” he muttered gruffly to himself, sweat dripping on the wet sand.
graasvoel
open to anyone, now <3
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