05-21-2016, 08:39 PM
She is quiet, attempting to blend within the darkness of yet another eerie, creaking night. She is often absent, stolen away by her own curiosity and the incessant ache of loneliness that has lingered for so long within the depths of her chest that it has become a part of her. She cannot bear to stay too long; she loathes to see his touch linger upon another and she cannot stand to see him caress and adore the many females that have long since grown and blossomed. A frothing pit of self-pity and anguish bubbles within the confines of her rib cage the longer she allows herself to stay within the silvery confines of the pebbled beach. It would be impossible to describe how she feels - love is too saturated with broken promise and fraught with hope, and jealousy is a seeded word she is too wary to bury.
Instead, she allows her darkened figure to disappear within the depths of a shadowy night. She spends each evening, long after her lavender King has assumed she has fallen into a deep slumber, wandering the many lands that border their own. She revels in the silence, in the comfort of peace and quiet. She is grown now - a lithe, slender beauty with thick wings and cascading feathers of obsidian and silver, which catch the light of the waning moon so beautifully as she bounds with heavier footfall, plunging towards an open meadow as she extends her plumage to her sides and catches the thick breeze with ease. She is soaring now; flying so far above the crinkling, dying foliage and the sand dunes along the coast that she is enveloped into a shroud of fog that caresses her flesh with a gentle chill.
She embraces the night, the thick blanket of stars overhead and the sheen of light from the moon shining down as she glides through the thin air. She closes her eyes for a moment, savoring the invigorating feeling of freedom that floods through her delicate veins. She cannot stay forever, this she knows - but the gentle skylark is still too hesitant to leave; still too foolishly hopeful that he will see anything in her aside from a pawn in his clever game. Her thoughts, however, are broken unceremoniously. Her heart seizes for a moment within her chest as a shrill cry echoes from below, and shortly after, she finds herself surrounded by startled, frightened birds of questionable color and scent (these gulls always reek of their own feces and digestive fluids, and she flinches away as they near her).
With a powerful thrust of her wings, she soars lower beneath the sheen of fog that lingers above, and it is then that she sees him, his lavender pelt glimmering beneath the reflection of a bright, wistful ocean bathed beneath the evening light. She moves with ease through the air, gliding slowly to the uneven, soft sand, her darkened hooves prancing along the coastline as she alters her momentum. Quietly, she pulls her thick wings to her sides, brown doe eyes peering uncertainly at an uneasy, injured Kirin. She had not seen him in some time, but that was hardly rare - he was always within the presence of another; making love to another. Her blood boils softly, simmering beneath the surface, but she swallows the white hot jealousy as if it were acidic bile in her throat.
"Kirin," She murmurs, pressing her cheek to his hip as she looks warily to his various markings, which seep a trickling of blood along his perfect, flawless coat. "You're injured. What happened?"
Instead, she allows her darkened figure to disappear within the depths of a shadowy night. She spends each evening, long after her lavender King has assumed she has fallen into a deep slumber, wandering the many lands that border their own. She revels in the silence, in the comfort of peace and quiet. She is grown now - a lithe, slender beauty with thick wings and cascading feathers of obsidian and silver, which catch the light of the waning moon so beautifully as she bounds with heavier footfall, plunging towards an open meadow as she extends her plumage to her sides and catches the thick breeze with ease. She is soaring now; flying so far above the crinkling, dying foliage and the sand dunes along the coast that she is enveloped into a shroud of fog that caresses her flesh with a gentle chill.
She embraces the night, the thick blanket of stars overhead and the sheen of light from the moon shining down as she glides through the thin air. She closes her eyes for a moment, savoring the invigorating feeling of freedom that floods through her delicate veins. She cannot stay forever, this she knows - but the gentle skylark is still too hesitant to leave; still too foolishly hopeful that he will see anything in her aside from a pawn in his clever game. Her thoughts, however, are broken unceremoniously. Her heart seizes for a moment within her chest as a shrill cry echoes from below, and shortly after, she finds herself surrounded by startled, frightened birds of questionable color and scent (these gulls always reek of their own feces and digestive fluids, and she flinches away as they near her).
With a powerful thrust of her wings, she soars lower beneath the sheen of fog that lingers above, and it is then that she sees him, his lavender pelt glimmering beneath the reflection of a bright, wistful ocean bathed beneath the evening light. She moves with ease through the air, gliding slowly to the uneven, soft sand, her darkened hooves prancing along the coastline as she alters her momentum. Quietly, she pulls her thick wings to her sides, brown doe eyes peering uncertainly at an uneasy, injured Kirin. She had not seen him in some time, but that was hardly rare - he was always within the presence of another; making love to another. Her blood boils softly, simmering beneath the surface, but she swallows the white hot jealousy as if it were acidic bile in her throat.
"Kirin," She murmurs, pressing her cheek to his hip as she looks warily to his various markings, which seep a trickling of blood along his perfect, flawless coat. "You're injured. What happened?"
