[AW] EL FIN {relic}

[Nora]

Confident that my guardsman would handle the quest of inspecting that disarrayed, rustic visitor (who has alleviated some measure of unease by appearing fit enough to surge up from the pasture) my throttled, high-strung apprehension rotates and narrows upon the distant, careening breast of that offending incline. Mini me floats lazily onto the set with her watertight vessel of skepticism and disquieted features, ‘intentional?’ Her cocked, expectant question is met with taut, frigid silence...despite my tunneled, eavesdropping focus....those definite answers are beyond reach. Illegible murmurs entice these nares to intuitively amplify, indulging upon the banquet of perfumes ripe for taking. The upset tranquility is further skewed by a far-off multitude of starlings (which appear to be traveling inland from their oceanic hideaway,) their near silent wings flash an impressive variety of blue as they harmonize and reflect the unblinking star. Their cloud-like formation suggests their drove is numbering the hundreds; though miraculously, these dwarfish acrobatics move their hoard as a singular, adaptable entity. Unbothered by our passive existence, that inky convoy descends quietly behind the questionable apex and sinks once more beyond view. These rigid, wary muscles deliberately unwind '...must’ve been...’ perceptive notions are derailed when a sudden ’rustle’ of movement is all the warning received before her pinkish snout has drove free. Hollows maintain their unyielding cover despite the ease of penetration; pastel shoulders flex, curling my lean face inward to better view the nestling, “salut bébé,” affectionate murmurs appear to fall upon deviated ears; her crystalline gaze is baited elsewhere. With a light sigh of rising bemusement, that extended arm begins to fold inward and draw up with the intention of resettling against the length of my barrel. Concurrently, my fledgling impatiently snaps free, determined to weaver herself onward with those sprig-like pillars. Sun soaked tendrils fly up from their naturally curve dock as I jerk to follow along. Nimble steps effortlessly gain upon those stunted, delicate feet, “facile, Miette!” Warning rims inch lower, twisting and hovering defensively over my babe, compromising the allowance toward her exploratory desires. @Noah @Rostislav

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