bristol
the past tense of regret is indecision
wing appearance: black, feathery, and large
It has been easier to live in Ischia before her sire had taken over. Brennen, perhaps, had been frustrated by Bristol’s lack of engagement but Krone and her kin had cared very little what Bristol did or didn’t do. She wasn’t entirely sure her kind-of Queen had even known that Bristol had existed – a glimpse of the girl in the sky, after all, was as like to be a glimpse of Brennen. Only someone with augemented vision would have been able to tell the difference when they were aloft, and even a first glance on the ground might give some people a feeling of déjà vu, if Bristol is (as she is now) letting her wings stay in the natural, huge black state.
Of course, on a second glance, Bristol is just slightly taller and bulkier than her sire, due to her mother’s lack of arabian heritage. Each of her feet is also dipped in white, and she lacks her father’s white star. But the deep shade of red-bay, and the honey-brown eyes, those are the same. And while she feels ready to move on, to leave home for good, she is just nervous enough about it to choose to keep her wings black and large, the familiar piece of comfort from her father that she wraps along her sides after landing in Nerine like a sort of feathery blanket.
The familiar smell of saltwater is also a comfort, though the chill autumn bite is something she hasn’t experienced since Brennen moved them to a tropical island. Ischia simply doesn’t get winter in any form, but it’s clear that Nerine will suffer from the fell season. The water, too, is different as she turns her gaze towards the ocean: it’s rougher, darker, and more dangerous than the mostly inland water of home. She has only ever seen water even a fraction this rough when the spring storms tore Ischia apart, and that wasn’t even quite like this. It’s like someone has dropped a gray filter over the world…and she likes it.
Manners dictate she wait to be greeted, but she is creeping towards the open water as if mesmerized, or enthralled. This is what is left of her mother’s heritage, even if Prague had never set foot in this incarnation of her Amazons, and she likes what she has found.
Of course, on a second glance, Bristol is just slightly taller and bulkier than her sire, due to her mother’s lack of arabian heritage. Each of her feet is also dipped in white, and she lacks her father’s white star. But the deep shade of red-bay, and the honey-brown eyes, those are the same. And while she feels ready to move on, to leave home for good, she is just nervous enough about it to choose to keep her wings black and large, the familiar piece of comfort from her father that she wraps along her sides after landing in Nerine like a sort of feathery blanket.
The familiar smell of saltwater is also a comfort, though the chill autumn bite is something she hasn’t experienced since Brennen moved them to a tropical island. Ischia simply doesn’t get winter in any form, but it’s clear that Nerine will suffer from the fell season. The water, too, is different as she turns her gaze towards the ocean: it’s rougher, darker, and more dangerous than the mostly inland water of home. She has only ever seen water even a fraction this rough when the spring storms tore Ischia apart, and that wasn’t even quite like this. It’s like someone has dropped a gray filter over the world…and she likes it.
Manners dictate she wait to be greeted, but she is creeping towards the open water as if mesmerized, or enthralled. This is what is left of her mother’s heritage, even if Prague had never set foot in this incarnation of her Amazons, and she likes what she has found.