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06-24-2017, 12:22 AM
fear the vulture and it will come. fear nothing and you are the vulture.
A new type of satisfaction filled the man. It swelled his chest and arched his crest—not in a pompous way, but in a fulfilled way. The vulture, so absorbed with proud paternal thoughts, did not even realize he, and all of Helovia, had just been released from the clutches of a powerful god—he had far more important thoughts on his mind: flying lessons.
The little bumblebee had admirable soared over the salt flats. His wings absentmindedly rose from his sides, their vast size brushing against the willow’s golden drapery even in their half-folded state. A few yellow, oval leaves getting ensnared in the varied feathers and hitching a ride through the Grove—a few even clutched onto the snarled tufts of his beard, bringing further attention to the preoccupied, lopsided grin that was plastered on his thick lips. He was in a fine mood, indeed, as he wandered back towards the Edge.
Though his red-hot eyes quickly lost their glaze, raptor gaze focusing sharply on the golden haunches that swayed just beyond their reach in the thickly-foliaged Grove. He knew those haunches and those dark wing tips that so amply framed them. Though he had not yet known those haunches in the way he had wished for on multiple occasions of meeting Yael, he certainly had appreciated them from the other side of her long-running rejection.
But even the constant teasing (and continued denial) of the alluringly accented mare could not dim his spirits; right now, the Vulture was on top of the world. So a deep, gruff whicker was sent out through the swaying willows, “Yael, always a vision.” And his lopsided grin grew,wondering hoping for some further illuminating conversation with the enigmatic woman.
The little bumblebee had admirable soared over the salt flats. His wings absentmindedly rose from his sides, their vast size brushing against the willow’s golden drapery even in their half-folded state. A few yellow, oval leaves getting ensnared in the varied feathers and hitching a ride through the Grove—a few even clutched onto the snarled tufts of his beard, bringing further attention to the preoccupied, lopsided grin that was plastered on his thick lips. He was in a fine mood, indeed, as he wandered back towards the Edge.
Though his red-hot eyes quickly lost their glaze, raptor gaze focusing sharply on the golden haunches that swayed just beyond their reach in the thickly-foliaged Grove. He knew those haunches and those dark wing tips that so amply framed them. Though he had not yet known those haunches in the way he had wished for on multiple occasions of meeting Yael, he certainly had appreciated them from the other side of her long-running rejection.
But even the constant teasing (and continued denial) of the alluringly accented mare could not dim his spirits; right now, the Vulture was on top of the world. So a deep, gruff whicker was sent out through the swaying willows, “Yael, always a vision.” And his lopsided grin grew,
graasvoel
@Yael
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