10-26-2020, 08:31 PM
CrownS
Crowns stares in awe, craning his neck to watch the flowers along her back become flowers he doesn’t think he’s seen before. He likes the way they hang down her sides rather than stare upward at the sun or any source of light. She explains that she was born with these flowers and he supposes she loves them the way he loves his wings. They change in shape a little more each day, but they always drip across his back to remind him that they’re there. He turns his navy head to consider them now and he’s surprised at how pointed the elbow joint looks today. He says nothing of this, though, choosing instead to bring his attention to her once more.
A shrill laugh escapes him as the root surprises him with its wiggling against his leg. He dances away, still trying to balance the little bird on his head. Crowns has made up his mind that he rather likes this flower woman.
“I think living as a tree would be relaxing,” he says as his giggling dies down. He watches her then as she says the jungle is alive, and this he understands quite easily - the glowing eyes of the night, the birdsong lullaby that grows to morning calls that wake him. Crowns can’t imagine living anywhere else if they don’t have the same sounds and liveliness.
“The jungle has a pulse of its own, too,” he says with an absent-minded nod. He isn’t sure how he knows it, but he can feel it separate from his own heartbeat. The flow of the lava far beneath them moves in gentle time with the blood in his veins. Every day, its siren’s call has grown stronger, and someday he will explore its smoldering depths. But today he is here with Isilya, and that is more than enough for now.
A shrill laugh escapes him as the root surprises him with its wiggling against his leg. He dances away, still trying to balance the little bird on his head. Crowns has made up his mind that he rather likes this flower woman.
“I think living as a tree would be relaxing,” he says as his giggling dies down. He watches her then as she says the jungle is alive, and this he understands quite easily - the glowing eyes of the night, the birdsong lullaby that grows to morning calls that wake him. Crowns can’t imagine living anywhere else if they don’t have the same sounds and liveliness.
“The jungle has a pulse of its own, too,” he says with an absent-minded nod. He isn’t sure how he knows it, but he can feel it separate from his own heartbeat. The flow of the lava far beneath them moves in gentle time with the blood in his veins. Every day, its siren’s call has grown stronger, and someday he will explore its smoldering depths. But today he is here with Isilya, and that is more than enough for now.