✩ v i r u n ✩
but the fire is coming
so I think we should run
Virun doesn’t know exactly where she is.
That’s not abnormal – Virun usually doesn’t know where she is, at least when she’s alone. (But usually, in some regards, even when someone else is around. She doesn’t feel equipped to confirm what she can’t see with her own eyes, after all, and she can’t really see anything.) She has some, vague notion of where she is, of course. She had passed through the swamp, though largely in the air after she’d come to the quick conclusion that areas that were densely-populated by trees weren’t exactly her strength. Now, she circled over what she could only assume was a stream, judging by the sound of babbling water far beneath her hooves. She could hear the rustle of leaves, too, disturbed by a gentle breeze that was a comfort in the suffocating summer heat. A forest, probably? She couldn’t be sure, but it seemed likely that the swamplands would lead into something similarly dense, if a bit less…sticky.
(Virun had found that she quite disliked the way that her feathers clumped and tangled in the mud, and she didn’t like the way the ground seemed to shift beneath her hooves, soft and malleable. It left her feeling unsteady, as though she were about to fall over most all of the time.)
She tenses her wings, slanting them to swoop downwards at a slight angle. (It isn’t as though she knows where she’s landing, after all; for all she knows, she’s heading directly for a river, and she’s not a particularly adept swimmer. It’s far too easy for her to get disoriented underwater, legs and hair and wings all tangled up like seaweed and driftwood and...her mind is still on the bank of the Terminus Sea.) As the sound of rushing water and rustling leaves grows louder, she reaches out with her hooves, tentatively, to feel at what’s below her. Eventually, she presses down on the crunch of leaves and branches.
She flaps her wings, spinning in small circles until she finds a break in the branches. She lights in a clearing, landing with a rather unceremonious thud in soft, lush (or so she imagines, from the texture) grass, the whistle of wind through the trees at her back. It’s much cooler, beneath the comfort of leaves; the sun filters through in what she imagines (as best she can) are soft, fragmented dapples, rather than beating down on her shoulders and wings. She takes a deep breath of fresh clean air, and disregards the fact that she doesn’t know exactly where she is or how to get back to Terrastella; that’s a problem for future Virun to deal with, not the present one.
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tags | @lyra
notes | <3
but the fire is coming
so I think we should run
Virun doesn’t know exactly where she is.
That’s not abnormal – Virun usually doesn’t know where she is, at least when she’s alone. (But usually, in some regards, even when someone else is around. She doesn’t feel equipped to confirm what she can’t see with her own eyes, after all, and she can’t really see anything.) She has some, vague notion of where she is, of course. She had passed through the swamp, though largely in the air after she’d come to the quick conclusion that areas that were densely-populated by trees weren’t exactly her strength. Now, she circled over what she could only assume was a stream, judging by the sound of babbling water far beneath her hooves. She could hear the rustle of leaves, too, disturbed by a gentle breeze that was a comfort in the suffocating summer heat. A forest, probably? She couldn’t be sure, but it seemed likely that the swamplands would lead into something similarly dense, if a bit less…sticky.
(Virun had found that she quite disliked the way that her feathers clumped and tangled in the mud, and she didn’t like the way the ground seemed to shift beneath her hooves, soft and malleable. It left her feeling unsteady, as though she were about to fall over most all of the time.)
She tenses her wings, slanting them to swoop downwards at a slight angle. (It isn’t as though she knows where she’s landing, after all; for all she knows, she’s heading directly for a river, and she’s not a particularly adept swimmer. It’s far too easy for her to get disoriented underwater, legs and hair and wings all tangled up like seaweed and driftwood and...her mind is still on the bank of the Terminus Sea.) As the sound of rushing water and rustling leaves grows louder, she reaches out with her hooves, tentatively, to feel at what’s below her. Eventually, she presses down on the crunch of leaves and branches.
She flaps her wings, spinning in small circles until she finds a break in the branches. She lights in a clearing, landing with a rather unceremonious thud in soft, lush (or so she imagines, from the texture) grass, the whistle of wind through the trees at her back. It’s much cooler, beneath the comfort of leaves; the sun filters through in what she imagines (as best she can) are soft, fragmented dapples, rather than beating down on her shoulders and wings. She takes a deep breath of fresh clean air, and disregards the fact that she doesn’t know exactly where she is or how to get back to Terrastella; that’s a problem for future Virun to deal with, not the present one.
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tags | @lyra
notes | <3
