12-19-2020, 12:38 PM
There is particular care in the way that Popinjay carries the fragile statue in her talons, careful not to crush the hollow stone, careful not to drop it, lest it fall to earth and shatter. There is a gentleness that those who know her may not think she is capable of displaying - this wild girl who has always been rampant as the wild winds tumbling across Nerine - and when she finally finds the place she knows is perfect for the treasure she has claimed, her broad wings angle slowly, spread wide so that her descent is more of a drift than the dramatic freefall that she often favors.
Those great black and red wings pump, thrusting cool wind down over the garden of black carnivorous plants, and they, still young, still maturing, are nevertheless sturdy enough that their dark, twisting stalks seem to only feel the gentle breeze of summer. The empty foot touches down first, wings still unfurled to their full length for balance, and then, to the seeming interest of the northern flytraps (for they turn their heads like sunflowers finding the sun when they sense a presence and taste the air in search of northern scents,) she rests her prize among them and lets her shape fold in on itself; once again small and equine with glossy, dark, wings.
A protected place.
But not hidden. The boy charges at her and Popinjay greets his childish vehemence with her grin wide and small ears turned forward within the sea of her mane. The star across her broad forehead winks teasingly behind the curling forelock, there, then not, but the Cheshire grin remains.
Not hers to take? Popinjay tsks softly at his demands while the Taiga's crimson Guardian arrives in a similar fury. Dark gaze flicks up to find livid blue eyes that match the boy's.
"Wasn't it?" White teeth flash brightly when the Rook laughs, like lightning flashing in clouds. The idea is a preposterous one, "I didn't see you there to stop me, and I did wait."
She had waited. Perhaps not such a long time, but there had been a pause, at least.
"And if I were after your attention, Lobelia, I know better ways to get it than relocating statuary."
There's a wicked turn to her smile for Lilliana, whose name she remembers, now, but butchers anyway for the fun of it. After all, their attitude borders on insulting. She has done them a favor to bring it here, in this place of glory with its honor guard of thick-stemmed fly-traps.
"But... I'll let you try to explain why you think this isn't better. Maybe I'll even let you take her back.
Those great black and red wings pump, thrusting cool wind down over the garden of black carnivorous plants, and they, still young, still maturing, are nevertheless sturdy enough that their dark, twisting stalks seem to only feel the gentle breeze of summer. The empty foot touches down first, wings still unfurled to their full length for balance, and then, to the seeming interest of the northern flytraps (for they turn their heads like sunflowers finding the sun when they sense a presence and taste the air in search of northern scents,) she rests her prize among them and lets her shape fold in on itself; once again small and equine with glossy, dark, wings.
A protected place.
But not hidden. The boy charges at her and Popinjay greets his childish vehemence with her grin wide and small ears turned forward within the sea of her mane. The star across her broad forehead winks teasingly behind the curling forelock, there, then not, but the Cheshire grin remains.
Not hers to take? Popinjay tsks softly at his demands while the Taiga's crimson Guardian arrives in a similar fury. Dark gaze flicks up to find livid blue eyes that match the boy's.
"Wasn't it?" White teeth flash brightly when the Rook laughs, like lightning flashing in clouds. The idea is a preposterous one, "I didn't see you there to stop me, and I did wait."
She had waited. Perhaps not such a long time, but there had been a pause, at least.
"And if I were after your attention, Lobelia, I know better ways to get it than relocating statuary."
There's a wicked turn to her smile for Lilliana, whose name she remembers, now, but butchers anyway for the fun of it. After all, their attitude borders on insulting. She has done them a favor to bring it here, in this place of glory with its honor guard of thick-stemmed fly-traps.
"But... I'll let you try to explain why you think this isn't better. Maybe I'll even let you take her back.
@[Reave]
