04-22-2020, 09:13 AM
At the time, trying to be like Quiet had seemed like a good idea. There was no controlling the sound as she could - he had absolutely tried that. The day that he had tried to silence her and take away her voice after an argument had resulted in a burning embarrassment that he still didn’t like to recall or talk about. And well, if he couldn’t control the noise as she could, growing wings would be the second-best choice. Sprouting them had been easy enough; just a quick mental image and a pair of large, dark wings bristled and grew wide and strong, and very little capable of flight.
The taking off and gaining altitude had proven easy enough too.
It was the slowing down and the landing that he was beginning to realize was a more prominent issue that needed addressing. And before he realized what he was doing, the ground seemed to lurch and rise beneath him, reaching to meet with his struggling legs that longed to stand atop solid ground again.
Beginner’s luck maybe, but his landing is fairly underwhelming. The vast open area of the meadow saves him from meeting with any tree canopies, and the winds are gentle today as they roll through Beqanna. And when his feet do meet with the brittle autumn grass, there’s only a minute skid and falter before he is quickly righted and standing again. Surprised by the ordeal, he stands there a bit hunched over, wide-eyed, practically panting, and apparently unable to move until a solid couple of minutes have seeped by. His eyes are the first to move, followed by his head, wings, tail then legs, slowly coming to a conscious understanding of just how lucky he was to be alive.
After smoothing the unkempt feathers back into their appropriate places, he spared a glance around, checking out the strangers gathered and conversing in the distance, and Hyaline’s crown of mountains just beyond. A stream caught his violet gaze just off to the left, and the dry, scratchy feeling in his throat from his terrified screams a few moments before begged to feel the cool relief of water.
When he turns his legs are still shakey and practically rubber, and he doesn’t see the old gnarled tree root that lifts just high enough to catch his hoof. All he can manage is a startled croak and an unceremonious flapping of his wings before a dull thud and a plume of agitated dust rise when his head, neck, and chest collide with the ground.
The taking off and gaining altitude had proven easy enough too.
It was the slowing down and the landing that he was beginning to realize was a more prominent issue that needed addressing. And before he realized what he was doing, the ground seemed to lurch and rise beneath him, reaching to meet with his struggling legs that longed to stand atop solid ground again.
Beginner’s luck maybe, but his landing is fairly underwhelming. The vast open area of the meadow saves him from meeting with any tree canopies, and the winds are gentle today as they roll through Beqanna. And when his feet do meet with the brittle autumn grass, there’s only a minute skid and falter before he is quickly righted and standing again. Surprised by the ordeal, he stands there a bit hunched over, wide-eyed, practically panting, and apparently unable to move until a solid couple of minutes have seeped by. His eyes are the first to move, followed by his head, wings, tail then legs, slowly coming to a conscious understanding of just how lucky he was to be alive.
After smoothing the unkempt feathers back into their appropriate places, he spared a glance around, checking out the strangers gathered and conversing in the distance, and Hyaline’s crown of mountains just beyond. A stream caught his violet gaze just off to the left, and the dry, scratchy feeling in his throat from his terrified screams a few moments before begged to feel the cool relief of water.
When he turns his legs are still shakey and practically rubber, and he doesn’t see the old gnarled tree root that lifts just high enough to catch his hoof. All he can manage is a startled croak and an unceremonious flapping of his wings before a dull thud and a plume of agitated dust rise when his head, neck, and chest collide with the ground.