09-23-2019, 10:57 PM
She wakes to the sound of bells, though it is not a sound she has a name for. It sounds so soft, tinkling like the chime of icicles, like those bright gem-pebbles when they spill and clatter together from the stone of her favorite exploring-caves. She almost forgets the bells when other sound swells to swallow it - the rustle of leaves and the cooing of birds. Her sleepy head droops again, ears going soft and slack and slipping comically sideways.
But then she hears it again, that whimsical chime that seems to stir something gentle and joyful within her chest. Climbing to her feet, she pauses again, waits for the sound to tumble against her in that same fragile way Flit’s wings do when her moth companion hides itself in the cornsilk of her dark mane.
She waits, peering around with eyes the color of green crystals until she is distracted by something else entirely. Light flashes in her periphery - like a floating star or a firefly, but when she turns her face fully and steps eagerly forward, she is bewildered by its sudden disappearance. Did she imagine it? She blinks, wonders if maybe she needs a longer nap, if probably her eyes are playing tricks on her.
But no! There it is again! She bounds towards it with enough enthusiasm that Flit spills free of her hair in a tumble of powdery white wings. <i>“There it is again!”</i> She cries in a voice of sweet, childish delight, outpacing her much smaller companion easily before remembering herself and slowing so the moth can tangle back into her mane. <i>“Sorry Flit.”</i> She murmurs with sweet bashfulness, smiling at the tiny whirring chirps she knows to be Flit scolding her. FORTUNATELY, Flutter doesn’t seem to understand moth-language. Or maybe the words are just too teeny tiny and get lost along the way. It’s okay, Flit has other ways of expressing herself.
With her companion tucked safely into the tangles of her stone-dark mane, she follows the wandering star until the forest around her grows darker and unfamiliar. She barely notices though, feeling only the bravery of a child so protected by her parents from anything that might ever harm her. Brave from her gentle naivety. Or at least brave until suddenly the forest is too dark to pick out the shape of the more distant trees, until the sky is gone from overhead and only the leaves fold like gem-colored hands to blot out all else.
She wilts just a little, surprised by the change and a little wary, but the dark itself does not scare her, not when she knows how strong daddy is in the dark. It’s just the suddenness of unfamiliarity and the lack of either one of her parents by her side that makes her hesitate when the door looms suddenly ahead of her. For a second she gives it the wary side-eye and goes to turn back, deciding that maybe she didn’t care about bells and lost stars after all, you know? But, she pauses, glances back at the door all squinty-eyed and searching, scowling at it like maybe she can scare it into telling her if it’s mean.
But nothing happens, no change in the dark or the forest or the door itself, not even in the thick tangles of vines spilled all around it like her messy hair.<i> “Oooookay,”</i> she says aloud, sounding decisive even as that wary side-eye look returns as she inches back towards the door, <i>“I mean, we came all this way and you’re probably a nice thingamabob I bet.”</i> She looks doubtful though, pausing to sniff it, then jab it with her nose and recoil quickly, then touch it again more gently when it doesn’t hurt. <i>“Yeah okay,”</i> she announces as though someone had asked, <i>“this is no big deal.”</i>
Then with a quiver of anticipation, the smoky pegasus steps over the threshold, decidedly ignoring the jabber of moth-chirp buzzing in her ear. Flit probably just agrees this is a good idea anyway.
But then she hears it again, that whimsical chime that seems to stir something gentle and joyful within her chest. Climbing to her feet, she pauses again, waits for the sound to tumble against her in that same fragile way Flit’s wings do when her moth companion hides itself in the cornsilk of her dark mane.
She waits, peering around with eyes the color of green crystals until she is distracted by something else entirely. Light flashes in her periphery - like a floating star or a firefly, but when she turns her face fully and steps eagerly forward, she is bewildered by its sudden disappearance. Did she imagine it? She blinks, wonders if maybe she needs a longer nap, if probably her eyes are playing tricks on her.
But no! There it is again! She bounds towards it with enough enthusiasm that Flit spills free of her hair in a tumble of powdery white wings. <i>“There it is again!”</i> She cries in a voice of sweet, childish delight, outpacing her much smaller companion easily before remembering herself and slowing so the moth can tangle back into her mane. <i>“Sorry Flit.”</i> She murmurs with sweet bashfulness, smiling at the tiny whirring chirps she knows to be Flit scolding her. FORTUNATELY, Flutter doesn’t seem to understand moth-language. Or maybe the words are just too teeny tiny and get lost along the way. It’s okay, Flit has other ways of expressing herself.
With her companion tucked safely into the tangles of her stone-dark mane, she follows the wandering star until the forest around her grows darker and unfamiliar. She barely notices though, feeling only the bravery of a child so protected by her parents from anything that might ever harm her. Brave from her gentle naivety. Or at least brave until suddenly the forest is too dark to pick out the shape of the more distant trees, until the sky is gone from overhead and only the leaves fold like gem-colored hands to blot out all else.
She wilts just a little, surprised by the change and a little wary, but the dark itself does not scare her, not when she knows how strong daddy is in the dark. It’s just the suddenness of unfamiliarity and the lack of either one of her parents by her side that makes her hesitate when the door looms suddenly ahead of her. For a second she gives it the wary side-eye and goes to turn back, deciding that maybe she didn’t care about bells and lost stars after all, you know? But, she pauses, glances back at the door all squinty-eyed and searching, scowling at it like maybe she can scare it into telling her if it’s mean.
But nothing happens, no change in the dark or the forest or the door itself, not even in the thick tangles of vines spilled all around it like her messy hair.<i> “Oooookay,”</i> she says aloud, sounding decisive even as that wary side-eye look returns as she inches back towards the door, <i>“I mean, we came all this way and you’re probably a nice thingamabob I bet.”</i> She looks doubtful though, pausing to sniff it, then jab it with her nose and recoil quickly, then touch it again more gently when it doesn’t hurt. <i>“Yeah okay,”</i> she announces as though someone had asked, <i>“this is no big deal.”</i>
Then with a quiver of anticipation, the smoky pegasus steps over the threshold, decidedly ignoring the jabber of moth-chirp buzzing in her ear. Flit probably just agrees this is a good idea anyway.