11-23-2020, 09:50 PM
i was alone, falling free, trying my best not to forget.
His sister often enjoys the shape of a hawk when she takes flight, but he chooses a vulture instead. He never cared for the way others gazed up at him when he was something remarkable. Their jaws hung open in quiet wonder as they watched the sunlight bleed through vibrant red tail feathers. They found him beautiful in his heaven, and followed him when he landed. As a wild-eyed vulture, though, no one pays him any attention at all.
Spirit gives a sharp croak as he lands, wings still outspread in a crude display of aggression. Slowly, his body grows and the feathers all shed to reveal the dark gray of his coat. Glimmering blue brindling catches the sun’s rays and illuminates him like a rare jewel. In another life, he might have hated this too, but it marks him as a member of his family. For this reason alone, he cherishes this body.
He turns his dark head and looks to the girl approaching him. Her antlers are nice, he thinks, and he tries to remember what animal he’s seen them on. But then she keeps coming closer and he considers becoming a vulture once more. It’s too late, though. She’s speaking and he hasn’t the heart to be rude to anyone that shows him kindness.
“It is,” he agrees, unused to speaking to anyone other than Breach - and they rarely shared words at all. They mostly exchanged glances as they hunted or purred with their bellies full of meat. Perhaps he could use this practice, then. “My name’s Spirit. What’s yours?”
Spirit gives a sharp croak as he lands, wings still outspread in a crude display of aggression. Slowly, his body grows and the feathers all shed to reveal the dark gray of his coat. Glimmering blue brindling catches the sun’s rays and illuminates him like a rare jewel. In another life, he might have hated this too, but it marks him as a member of his family. For this reason alone, he cherishes this body.
He turns his dark head and looks to the girl approaching him. Her antlers are nice, he thinks, and he tries to remember what animal he’s seen them on. But then she keeps coming closer and he considers becoming a vulture once more. It’s too late, though. She’s speaking and he hasn’t the heart to be rude to anyone that shows him kindness.
“It is,” he agrees, unused to speaking to anyone other than Breach - and they rarely shared words at all. They mostly exchanged glances as they hunted or purred with their bellies full of meat. Perhaps he could use this practice, then. “My name’s Spirit. What’s yours?”