✩ v i r u n ✩
but the fire is coming
so I think we should run
Blindness, she has learned, matters less in the air.
Massive violet wings snap in at the mare’s side as she dives along the sides of the cliffs, snapping them out to catch her only when she hears ocean spray thundering against the sharp rocks and feels the cool rush of droplets catching on her feathered coat. She spirals back up, then, wind whistling through her feathers. It isn’t quite like Virun to go cliff-diving; she is a rather delicate creature, not inclined towards an adrenaline rush or the nauseating jumps that her stomach makes when she crashes towards the open sea. Nevertheless, there she is,
free falling.
She wants to sit herself down on the cliffside, look herself firmly in the eyes (an ineffective but somehow amusing sentiment), and tell herself Virun, it is all going to be fine. If you would stop throwing yourself off of cliffs and instead direct your energy to summoning Celes, it would be better than fine, and faster. However, Virun knows that is a fool’s venture – she can’t feel the darkness, as she used to. It is blank and stale again. When she felt it, she could see into the other realm, the one that existed outside of sight; it was never the world in front of her, but she could make it into her world if only she asked her beloved companions. Now, there is no world but the one of which she has been robbed, the tangible, unseen world that pumps salt and sea into her lungs, a world that she can barely believe exists for her sightlessness. The sounds and the sensations are a disconnect. She can never quite piece together the puzzle, and-
You’re thinking too much again, Virun.
So much, in fact, that she nearly cascades into the sheet of (presumably) sharp rocks when she takes the next fall; she feels her primaries brush against their jagged tips when she pumps her wings to pull herself back up again. Silly, silly Virun. This is why they never let you outside – you can’t take care of yourself at all, you know. Grimacing, she rides the wind back up to the cliff’s edge, ears twitched forward to try and pinpoint where land meets sky by nothing but the sound of the wind howling against rough stone. She swoops down, down, down, long legs extending as she nears what she thinks is the ground. (From where she hovers, she can hear wind whipping through grasses.) Tentatively, she outstretches a long limb, and, finding solid ground, comes in for an uneasy landing; you’ve forgotten how to live without them, haven’t you? (It wasn’t as though she’d ever spent much time outside without them, either.)
At some point or another, she knows that she’ll have to make her way back to the Court; it’s only her own stubbornness and need for independence that pulled her from it in the first place. (She can’t stand being confined any longer – she feels caged, like her wings have been clipped off, every moment she spends constricted by those old stone walls.) For now, however, she stands on the cliff’s edge, long hair billowing in the wind as she stares out towards where she imagines the ocean meets the sky with eyes that cannot confirm or deny her suspicions.
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tags | @toulouse
notes | sudden virun muse, or something
but the fire is coming
so I think we should run
Blindness, she has learned, matters less in the air.
Massive violet wings snap in at the mare’s side as she dives along the sides of the cliffs, snapping them out to catch her only when she hears ocean spray thundering against the sharp rocks and feels the cool rush of droplets catching on her feathered coat. She spirals back up, then, wind whistling through her feathers. It isn’t quite like Virun to go cliff-diving; she is a rather delicate creature, not inclined towards an adrenaline rush or the nauseating jumps that her stomach makes when she crashes towards the open sea. Nevertheless, there she is,
free falling.
She wants to sit herself down on the cliffside, look herself firmly in the eyes (an ineffective but somehow amusing sentiment), and tell herself Virun, it is all going to be fine. If you would stop throwing yourself off of cliffs and instead direct your energy to summoning Celes, it would be better than fine, and faster. However, Virun knows that is a fool’s venture – she can’t feel the darkness, as she used to. It is blank and stale again. When she felt it, she could see into the other realm, the one that existed outside of sight; it was never the world in front of her, but she could make it into her world if only she asked her beloved companions. Now, there is no world but the one of which she has been robbed, the tangible, unseen world that pumps salt and sea into her lungs, a world that she can barely believe exists for her sightlessness. The sounds and the sensations are a disconnect. She can never quite piece together the puzzle, and-
You’re thinking too much again, Virun.
So much, in fact, that she nearly cascades into the sheet of (presumably) sharp rocks when she takes the next fall; she feels her primaries brush against their jagged tips when she pumps her wings to pull herself back up again. Silly, silly Virun. This is why they never let you outside – you can’t take care of yourself at all, you know. Grimacing, she rides the wind back up to the cliff’s edge, ears twitched forward to try and pinpoint where land meets sky by nothing but the sound of the wind howling against rough stone. She swoops down, down, down, long legs extending as she nears what she thinks is the ground. (From where she hovers, she can hear wind whipping through grasses.) Tentatively, she outstretches a long limb, and, finding solid ground, comes in for an uneasy landing; you’ve forgotten how to live without them, haven’t you? (It wasn’t as though she’d ever spent much time outside without them, either.)
At some point or another, she knows that she’ll have to make her way back to the Court; it’s only her own stubbornness and need for independence that pulled her from it in the first place. (She can’t stand being confined any longer – she feels caged, like her wings have been clipped off, every moment she spends constricted by those old stone walls.) For now, however, she stands on the cliff’s edge, long hair billowing in the wind as she stares out towards where she imagines the ocean meets the sky with eyes that cannot confirm or deny her suspicions.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
tags | @toulouse
notes | sudden virun muse, or something
