• Logout
  • Beqanna

    COTY

    Assailant -- Year 226

    QOTY

    "But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura


    like a prayer for which no words exist
    #1
    The light reflecting off the snow is very bright, and my eyes are very sensitive. I squint them shut against the glare, and pull my tiny wings closer around my body as I yawn sleepily. Something had woken me up, and I chirrup softly. The echoes that my ears catch tell me that that this is not where I fell asleep, and a second and third call confirm that I am still moving. That explains the rather rumbly feel to the word, and I hold a little tighter with the clawed toes of my hind feet lest I be dislodged by the movement.

    Momma probably feels me waking, tucked up as I am against the soft fur of her left ear, sheltered by the thick pink mane that I cling to so carefully.  She stops, which I take as my cue, and gracelessly climb down her face until the thumbs of my wings find a solid hold on either nostril. There I perch contentedly, my hind feet kneading happily into the yellow fur of her face. My position here is precarious, but I have no fear. I even turn, my dark eyes searching for the nearest of her black ones.

    “Momma, could you fling me?” I ask, my voice barely more than a squeak. If I were not sitting on her nose, I know that she wouldn’t have been able to hear me at all. “I wanna go really high this time!”

    The first time I’d been flung was an accident (I think). It’s not quite as fun as grabbing tight to Momma’s tail and then letting myself be whipped around by the elastic snap, but it is a close second, and also the best way to get into the sky. I like being in the sky, especially during times like these, when the sun floats only a little bit above the horizon. It is either dawn or dusk, I cannot tell. It doesn’t matter much anyway, not to me. I do little more than eat and sleep and play, and the time of day (or night) never seems to bother Momma.

    “I’m hungry,”  I add, letting go with my other thumb and turning to clamber back up her face. “Can you catch me a bunny?” I ask, rubbing my small head affectionately into the whirl of hair just between her eyes. There is the tiniest of vibrations, a feline purr emerging from a bat’s chest, and I add: “Pleaseeee.”


    @[Jackel]




    Users browsing this thread: 1 Guest(s)