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Graasvoel
I WILL FLY ON
THE WINGS OF A VULTURE
THE WINGS OF A VULTURE
He easily grins at the lovely Moon Doctor, raptor eyes taking in her beauty as his ears take in her name. And the beautiful woman even joined alongside him— he did not miss her delicate frame or the gentle slope of her hip. His massive white skull turns askant, then, glancing at the newly appeared copper man marked with ivory branches and the small elephant matriarch beside him. Wasn’t that the King’s companion?
His head swiveled, finding the Elephant standing not too far off, his attention focused on their radiant Queen. He couldn’t blame the man, for the white sovereign was a gift to the eyes; but he certainly wouldn’t be staring with such sadness at the Icebound. Shrugging to himself, he returning his attentions to the ice-shrouded bramble before him, warily eyeing the flames that leapt from the man’s lantern onto the thicket.
Stark white ears sweep forward as the crash suddenly resonated from deep within the thicket he was steadily shattering beneath his massive hooves. His heavy body stills, forelegs slowly coming back down to the earth littered with gleaming shards of ice. A flash of light, a warning: Run. The stallion was more than willing to heed such a warning. He was new to this herd, he was new to these lands in general. He knew that a fine line existed between stupidity and bravery, and he was keen to keep his hooves firmly planted in this realm.
But, as his haunches bunch to begin to take him away from whatever was causing the ominous clicking noise. But then Alysanne, his newly met Moon Doctor, squared her shoulders alongside him and quietly addressed their King with stalwart words of courage and protection. “Poesis,” he mutters a curse to this Helovia, knowing that he full well couldn’t leave, especially when a little filly appears, fully of pomp and bravado.
The monolith of a man partially spreads his massive, heavy wings. Perhaps if he appears even larger, whatever was in this thicket would be warned away? It was a futile hope, but a tactic nonetheless.
Poesis = Gods, fuck this.
His head swiveled, finding the Elephant standing not too far off, his attention focused on their radiant Queen. He couldn’t blame the man, for the white sovereign was a gift to the eyes; but he certainly wouldn’t be staring with such sadness at the Icebound. Shrugging to himself, he returning his attentions to the ice-shrouded bramble before him, warily eyeing the flames that leapt from the man’s lantern onto the thicket.
Stark white ears sweep forward as the crash suddenly resonated from deep within the thicket he was steadily shattering beneath his massive hooves. His heavy body stills, forelegs slowly coming back down to the earth littered with gleaming shards of ice. A flash of light, a warning: Run. The stallion was more than willing to heed such a warning. He was new to this herd, he was new to these lands in general. He knew that a fine line existed between stupidity and bravery, and he was keen to keep his hooves firmly planted in this realm.
But, as his haunches bunch to begin to take him away from whatever was causing the ominous clicking noise. But then Alysanne, his newly met Moon Doctor, squared her shoulders alongside him and quietly addressed their King with stalwart words of courage and protection. “Poesis,” he mutters a curse to this Helovia, knowing that he full well couldn’t leave, especially when a little filly appears, fully of pomp and bravado.
The monolith of a man partially spreads his massive, heavy wings. Perhaps if he appears even larger, whatever was in this thicket would be warned away? It was a futile hope, but a tactic nonetheless.
Poesis = Gods, fuck this.
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