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04-30-2013, 11:01 PM
The reverberant thwump of wings cupping air causes the child's ears to twitch in recognition, though she initially dismisses it as a figment of her dreaming. When a brisk sneeze sounds not far away, however, Azulee's heavy eyelids flutter open in response, and she lifts her head from the ground to drowsily inspect her surroundings. She oscillates her petite face in examination of the meadow, the long grasses nearly obscuring her view. As she peers through the stalks, her champagne-tarnished mane falling chaotically about her youthful features, she catches site of a familiar mare, one who reminds her vaguely of her star-breathing mother by the nebula which varnishes her midnight black form. Her static figure (the one who somehow resembles her dearly-departed father) seems equally riveted by the newcomer, raising its head as if to spectate her approach before fizzling out of existence in an obnoxious crackle. Azulee, unaware she had animated the figure, watches in mild surprise as it does so before returning her gaze to Andromeda. After a moment of silence she raises her forehand, her haunches quickly following suit. She shakes her body vigorously and a film of dust hovers around her for a moment before settling. Still, she says nothing. She has nothing to say, really, as she stretches her massive wings, the gossamer feathers reaching upward as if straining for the sky. Her jaws widen and sooty lips peel back as she utters a gaping yawn, her leonine tail held out stiffly behind her. She does not wish to bother with idle chatting, and decides to simply enjoy this mare's company in silence. She lowers her face to graze, yellowed teeth tearing at the sweet, emerald victuals. The grass is always sweeter this close to the sun. Indeed the lightning child recognizes Andromeda. Surely she has heard of her father's passing, and Azulee wishes to spare her her condolences. Of course she is sorry. Everyone is sorry, and yet, it is no one's fault. |
