[open] where the wind’s like a whetted knife

[Oceane]

oceane

to the lonely sea and sky

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Autumn's rambunctious breeze whispers in Oceane's ears and caresses her wings until they are coaxed open to welcome the squall into her bosom and across the expanse of her gleaming sides. It brushes through her flight feathers, pushing her unfurled wings back to create tension at her shoulders until the opaline woman can no longer resist the call —

She is airborne swiftly and gracefully, an expert takeoff from a woman who has known flight from nearly the same moment she learned how to walk with knobby knees and oversize appendages.

Oceane is buffeted by the wind as she ascends, her devices of flight working to exert control over the unpredictable thermals. It makes her feel powerful and free when she finds her rhythm, utilizing the wind in her favor instead of working against it.

It carries her south to warmer weather. She soars above the coast of Brilliant Pampas' peninsula, tasting the salt of the air and trying not to let it remind her of Ischia or Ivar. She had ventured in the airspace of the Pampas before, but never had Oceane truly visited the southern territory of Loess — following her discussion with Castile about politics, perhaps it was time to make her face known in the lands associated with her beloved foothills.

At the conclusion of her descent, with a handful of powerful undulations, Oceane's balefire wings alight her safely at the cusp of shoreline and meadow. Long grasses tickle at her violet underbelly and her shoulders, but fall away as she steps comfortably through them and further into the Pampas. The sea sits behind her, the sound of waves crashing intertwined with the soft white noise of the autumn breeze, as her bright amber soak in the unfamiliar sights of the wide-open grassland.

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open | "speaks"