12-17-2025, 02:27 PM
A biting wind blew through the meadow where the angel nestled, heralding an early and harsh winter. Lillia's incomprehensible grumbles indicated her feelings on that matter. With her small stature and short coat, she did not hold up well in the winter, least of all spiritually; even now, before the first snowfall, she found herself blaspheming the Gods who tore her from their warm, heavenly sanctuaries. What good could she, one inconsequential little angel, possibly do to increase their kingdoms while marooned in a land that tried to kill her with its harsh winters that lasted at least a quarter of each sun-cycle? Lillia tucked her head further into the downy bed she'd gathered for herself, splaying her wings in an articulate, cramped manner so as to create a shelter for herself from the wind.
Within the warmth of her nest, tucked along the tree line encircling the meadow and between a small series of bushes and rocks, Lillia eventually grew comfortable enough to slip into a light sleep. An angelic nap, if you will. Her grumbles came out as short warblings and snorts, snores, and twitches of her feathery wings which canopied and hid her cremello figure in its downy nest. Just as Lillia felt her consciousness slipping into that syrupy-sweet place where she might exercise her connection to time to fast forward through this bitter autumn gale, it happened.
Snap!
With an enormous jolt and an affronted squeal-snort combo, Lillia erupted her haloed head from between her wings to glare into the face of whoever dared to stomp through her nest and disturb her misery sleep. With her forelock tangled in her eyelashes, her feathers befrumpled and askew, and her halo in true danger of falling off her crown for its sideways lean, she made quite the sight; ears pinned, nostrils flared, and challenging sounds issuing from her usually docile, if not - ahem - angelic, self.
Within the warmth of her nest, tucked along the tree line encircling the meadow and between a small series of bushes and rocks, Lillia eventually grew comfortable enough to slip into a light sleep. An angelic nap, if you will. Her grumbles came out as short warblings and snorts, snores, and twitches of her feathery wings which canopied and hid her cremello figure in its downy nest. Just as Lillia felt her consciousness slipping into that syrupy-sweet place where she might exercise her connection to time to fast forward through this bitter autumn gale, it happened.
Snap!
With an enormous jolt and an affronted squeal-snort combo, Lillia erupted her haloed head from between her wings to glare into the face of whoever dared to stomp through her nest and disturb her misery sleep. With her forelock tangled in her eyelashes, her feathers befrumpled and askew, and her halo in true danger of falling off her crown for its sideways lean, she made quite the sight; ears pinned, nostrils flared, and challenging sounds issuing from her usually docile, if not - ahem - angelic, self.