05-16-2018, 12:11 PM
bristol
the past tense of regret is indecision
wing appearance: large, black, and feathered.
Bristol steps away from the edge of the cliff and the broiling waters below with reluctance, but interest in her new acquaintance. The sound of the crashing waves still rings in her ears as she gives the surf below a last, regretful look and vows to explore the water more in depth later. She is a winged creature, who should not be particularly partial to swimming, but yet at Brennen’s insistence she had learned to be a strong swimmer and she wants to test herself against the fierce waters of Nerine.
Wishbone may be ignorant of death, but Bristol is irreverant to it. She taunts it with a laugh and a fierce look in her amber eyes.
The bay mare steps away from the edge and into sync with Wishbone, keeping her dark wings folded against her sides. There is little use for them while walking beside a land-bound friend, and she is glad now that her father had also insisted that she spend time exercising on the ground and learning basic etiquette as well, despite her disdain for the subjects. Brennen had sympathized with his daughter’s affinity for the sky, himself a sky-creature, but nonetheless was firm on the point that they could not dwell entirely in the clouds, for a time would come when she would wish to be a part of society on the ground.
Bristol had laughed at him, unknowingly her mother’s laugh, and Brennen had been quiet for a time; but in the end, he’d civilized his wild daughter at least a little.
“I’m a daughter of Brennen and Prague, a sister from some time ago,” she says to Wishbone when questioned, and watches out of the corner of her eye to see if those names mean anything to her companion. “I grew up on stories of the Brotherhood and Sisterhood of old, and I see them in my dreams. My father’s Kingdom is nice enough, but I have never felt a true calling to serve the islands, despite dreaming of the sea. My father has always said I must have my mother’s soul to serve the sisterhood instead, if I can find no affinity to his order, so here I am to see if that is true.”
Wishbone may be ignorant of death, but Bristol is irreverant to it. She taunts it with a laugh and a fierce look in her amber eyes.
The bay mare steps away from the edge and into sync with Wishbone, keeping her dark wings folded against her sides. There is little use for them while walking beside a land-bound friend, and she is glad now that her father had also insisted that she spend time exercising on the ground and learning basic etiquette as well, despite her disdain for the subjects. Brennen had sympathized with his daughter’s affinity for the sky, himself a sky-creature, but nonetheless was firm on the point that they could not dwell entirely in the clouds, for a time would come when she would wish to be a part of society on the ground.
Bristol had laughed at him, unknowingly her mother’s laugh, and Brennen had been quiet for a time; but in the end, he’d civilized his wild daughter at least a little.
“I’m a daughter of Brennen and Prague, a sister from some time ago,” she says to Wishbone when questioned, and watches out of the corner of her eye to see if those names mean anything to her companion. “I grew up on stories of the Brotherhood and Sisterhood of old, and I see them in my dreams. My father’s Kingdom is nice enough, but I have never felt a true calling to serve the islands, despite dreaming of the sea. My father has always said I must have my mother’s soul to serve the sisterhood instead, if I can find no affinity to his order, so here I am to see if that is true.”