graasvoel

Great wings splashed with ebony, ivory, and tawny hues soar over the currents that flow and rise from the ocean’s rough surface. This air was not nearly as steady or even as the land’s thermal; but it did provide a continuous lift, for which the heavy stallion was thankful. Rather than having to pump his great wings to rise, he merely needed to adjust his large primary feathers to accommodate the swirling currents. And this was mostly done by instinct, for most of the vulture’s attention was focused on his flying companion.

Saartjie’s colors leapt across her skin in the intense, maritime sunlight. Her feathers were iridescent—a quality that had made the Jola House’s feathers puff up with jealousy. After all, theirs was the House of Opulence, should not that beauty belong in it’s courtyards? So it had created quite the rift between Jolas and the Kahares when Saartjie had been promised to Graasvoel (as he was of the Kahare House).

But adolescent lust does not heed such things. And unfulfilled adolescent lust often times will follow in to adulthood—a need that begs and pesters to be slaked. So it guided his sharp, red and yellow eyes across her lithe and elegantly flying body—at least, it did until the pair glided over the Riptide Isles and an intriguing sight.

“Kyk!” His gruff voice called above the whip of briny breezes to her, a wing tip tilting slightly below them to indicate the strange creature that stood in the surf surrounded by a colorful assortment of Helovians. His sharp gaze tracked beyond Isle to a—bridge? Vibrant irises constrict, honing in on it’s odd construction.

But he was quickly distracted from the makeup of the bridge by who was crossing it. A certain blushed woman from Uumalah, her ivory skin and delicate body recognizable even from the air, walked across the bridge and stood firmly in front of the strange creature.

The vulture blinked a few times as he sank from the skies, looking over his shoulder towards Saar. Uncertainty churned in him; he wanted to see Orithia, yet wanted to remain alongside Saar. A sigh escaped him, knowing that abruptly pulling up and trying to leave the scene would elicict a torrent of questions from Saartjie.

So, with a thump and spray of sand, he landed far up on the beach. And he tried (but miserably failed) to keep from staring at the sharp, testy woman whose quarters he still stayed in the Edge. “Wat dink jy is dit?” his gruff murmur was aimed towards Saar, though his gaze was clearly distracted as he glanced from the strange creature back to his colorful partner.

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Kyk! = Look!
Wat dink jy is dit? = What do you think it is?

the vulture feeds while it can
until there's no trace left of man