Elchanan PRAY FOR THE HOLY DARK -
It is dawn when he arrives, sky sweating away moon, replacing it with sun: the clouds turn from silver to purple and pink, and Elchanan’s pale skin twists and turns like an opal under the sunrise. From the ground it would be impossible to see him, so well do his light-blue feathers and multi faceted coat blend in with the churning sky. That is a kind of power - But then again, he cannot fly forever. Elchanan tucks his wings to his sides and tumbles forward. His head ducks, his legs fold in, and in only a moment he darts from from the highest fold of the sky to the ground below, the wind roaring past his flattened ears, squinting against the eye-watering wind. The land below becomes less of a dream and more of an obstacle. It rushes up toward him in an artful mosaic of red and green and brown, swirling and turning as he goes diving like a falcon. Despite his momentum, he lands easily. The ground outside the caves is still soft, and his small, dark hooves are practiced at finding purchase even at high speeds. As his first limb reaches toward the dirt, Elchanan flares his wings to their full length and pushes them back, back, back against his shoulders so that they scrape against the wind; he hits the ground at an exaggerated lope, lets his wings relax, and settles into an easy stride a moment later as he trots toward the entrance of the caves. He is too new to know any better. Something stops him, though, before he can enter the darkness completely. A sound - a rustle in the trees - Elchanan raises his finely-carved head high and looks around with huge dark eyes, ears flickering as he tracks the movement and its sounds all around the clearing. He misses the weight of his staff against his ribs. (It’s behind him in the timeline a little bit, still stuck in the portal or something.) But he also does not quite know how to be afraid, and wouldn’t use the thing on a stranger even if he could. |
