She comes like the thing she is named after: sharp, quick, and straight.
She flies with a purpose that is wholly unnecessary, each wing stroke fighting hard against the cool northern winds. Arrowe is determined to see the Isle while the world is at its warmest, before cold completely consumes the kingdom of glass and granite. Her mother had told her about the place when she was only as tall as the woman’s white stockings. She had listened, but only in the half-hearted, restless way of the young. Her dam had always meant to come here. That, she remembers. The rest is background buzzing in her head that she shakes now to try to rid herself of. She will make her own opinions and find her own stories. The shadow of her mother will not darken her here.
She will burn brighter and go farther than she could have ever hoped to.
Her turquoise feathers tremble against the back-draft of her own descent. The cross winds coming off the rough ocean toss her to and fro, making her landing a rather ungraceful one as the ground comes up too quickly and at the wrong angle. She curses as her knees hit the rocky shoreline. “Damn.” A warm trickle of blood makes its way down both of her forelegs as she rights herself. She forgets her wounds almost immediately in favor of taking in the place she has fallen into.
It is unlike her home island in almost every way, from the grey land to the deep blue ocean. There are no swaying palm trees or jewel-colored macaws filling the air with their squawks and songs. In fact, there is little sound at all save the crashing of the waves. Arrowe looks to her left and is surprised to see another apparently taking in the sights. How had she missed her from her flight in? Perhaps the grey-black of her coat had blended in. But how could she have missed the stars? They draw her in now, shining in spite of the drab place.
“You live here or just here to see it like me?” Unlike the glass that has been smoothed under their feet, Arrowe’s voice is cutting. She moves closer to the stranger than would be considered polite, close enough that the light of the stars reflect in her blue eyes as she accesses the other woman. There is no hostility, but her posture reveals an open boldness that she clearly has no plans to scale back. “So far, I’m not impressed.”
She flies with a purpose that is wholly unnecessary, each wing stroke fighting hard against the cool northern winds. Arrowe is determined to see the Isle while the world is at its warmest, before cold completely consumes the kingdom of glass and granite. Her mother had told her about the place when she was only as tall as the woman’s white stockings. She had listened, but only in the half-hearted, restless way of the young. Her dam had always meant to come here. That, she remembers. The rest is background buzzing in her head that she shakes now to try to rid herself of. She will make her own opinions and find her own stories. The shadow of her mother will not darken her here.
She will burn brighter and go farther than she could have ever hoped to.
Her turquoise feathers tremble against the back-draft of her own descent. The cross winds coming off the rough ocean toss her to and fro, making her landing a rather ungraceful one as the ground comes up too quickly and at the wrong angle. She curses as her knees hit the rocky shoreline. “Damn.” A warm trickle of blood makes its way down both of her forelegs as she rights herself. She forgets her wounds almost immediately in favor of taking in the place she has fallen into.
It is unlike her home island in almost every way, from the grey land to the deep blue ocean. There are no swaying palm trees or jewel-colored macaws filling the air with their squawks and songs. In fact, there is little sound at all save the crashing of the waves. Arrowe looks to her left and is surprised to see another apparently taking in the sights. How had she missed her from her flight in? Perhaps the grey-black of her coat had blended in. But how could she have missed the stars? They draw her in now, shining in spite of the drab place.
“You live here or just here to see it like me?” Unlike the glass that has been smoothed under their feet, Arrowe’s voice is cutting. She moves closer to the stranger than would be considered polite, close enough that the light of the stars reflect in her blue eyes as she accesses the other woman. There is no hostility, but her posture reveals an open boldness that she clearly has no plans to scale back. “So far, I’m not impressed.”
this world will eat your heart out
@Ciri