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01-16-2017, 05:44 PM
graasvoel
Thick head popped up as a faint, musical, distinctly feminine whinny trickled through the dripping, glistening dewdrops that coated the Edge after the intense shower. The vulture was thoroughly waterlogged, as told by his sopping feathers and dripping beard that hung limply beneath his chin. A slight wrinkle marred his starkly white nostrils—the plateaus didn’t get this wet. And, while the vulture was not adverse to wet things (in fact, there were some wet things he greatly enjoyed), he did not appreciate being so waterlogged.
So it was with unceremonious and slightly stomping hooves that he trudged beneath the lilac canopy to heed this monarch’s calls. His sour gaze brushed over their gargantuan King—thoroughly unimpressed with anything at the moment. Though he (true to form) did hover his gaze to appreciate the calm beauty that was the Devoted.
But then the Queen was suddenly saying his name. His ears jerked forward just as his thick neck rose, sharp eyes widening slightly. He had shown more attention to his role as Craftsman than he had in any other of his responsibilities in life, it was true. So, despite his sodden appearance, his tawny chest puffed out slightly in pride as a grin crossed his muzzle. “Thank you, my Queen,” his head dipped towards the Devoted, “My King,” a tilt in deference to the Elephant.
And then he fell silent as the very earth shook beneath his hooves. His head cocked—glass spikes may protect against earthly attacks. But they gave no protection against the skies…yet he was not mentally inclined for battle. So his thoughts turned elsewhere.
So it was with unceremonious and slightly stomping hooves that he trudged beneath the lilac canopy to heed this monarch’s calls. His sour gaze brushed over their gargantuan King—thoroughly unimpressed with anything at the moment. Though he (true to form) did hover his gaze to appreciate the calm beauty that was the Devoted.
But then the Queen was suddenly saying his name. His ears jerked forward just as his thick neck rose, sharp eyes widening slightly. He had shown more attention to his role as Craftsman than he had in any other of his responsibilities in life, it was true. So, despite his sodden appearance, his tawny chest puffed out slightly in pride as a grin crossed his muzzle. “Thank you, my Queen,” his head dipped towards the Devoted, “My King,” a tilt in deference to the Elephant.
And then he fell silent as the very earth shook beneath his hooves. His head cocked—glass spikes may protect against earthly attacks. But they gave no protection against the skies…yet he was not mentally inclined for battle. So his thoughts turned elsewhere.
the vulture feeds while it can
until there's no trace left of man
until there's no trace left of man
Please tag Graasvoel in all posts.
