o d i l e
Welcome to Wonderland, I'll be your guide
Holding your hand under sapphire skies
A soft flicker of light. It's what your eyes would immediately notice. That soft glimmer of reflecting sunlight on snow white feathers. It's nothing to make note off, however. Just a random swan flying through cold, arctic air. You can't know the swan's mind is full of grander thoughts, how could you? It's just a swan, isn't it? This frail bird, however, how odd it might strike you that it is choosing to fly in winter, when it could have already made its way south for the duration of snowy times. You might think it peculiar to even see a bird during this season. Much less such a soft and delicate creature.
If you were a hunter, perhaps you'd consider it a rare find. Your mind already alit with the possibilities of merchants and artisans eager to pay top dollar for those fine ivory feathers in a season where such feathers are hard to come by, much less the impossibility of finding freshly plucked feathers. A more delicate soul would enjoy just watching the swan fly, amazed at the grace and control it shows. If you were an Entertainer, you may try to mimic that grace into your dance, or sing of the beauty the sight shows.
If you were the one who sought the swan, however; your dry and cracked lips would stretch into a smile only fit to be seen on the face of Jeff the Killer. Twisted, possessive and eager to control the one who escaped you.
Regardless of who you are, you're likely to notice such an oddity. It's hard not to as the bird starts to appear more and more off. It's head whips around, as if it's looking for something, and for a moment you may notice that it seems to hover before descending.
That swan is soon in a graceful, arching dive, it's gaze still dancing all over the place. It's next actions cannot be missed, even in the low lighting of the setting sun. What else can one do but notice a distracted swan that flies straight into a courtyard column.
This graceful bird is no longer so graceful, wings flapping. If you looked closely you might see those black eyes hold a wealth of emotion, Confusion, weariness, trepidation. Odd for a swan, but dismissed easy after it's . . . unorthodox greeting with a slab of cylindrical stone. The swan doesn't seem to right itself, however. What follows is a series of escapades that feel as if they're straight from a comedy skit.
Your gaze would certainly be drawn to such a comical display as the swan honks in alarm, wings flapping until they clip the effigy of the central fountain, sending the bird into a spiral crash with the water below. The swan emerges sputtering and honking on its backs wings flapping and webbed black feet pedaling through the air. You might start to wonder why the bird doesn't just roll over when you notice the sun had now set, and the moon is shedding it's light.
You are not prepared for the light display that happens when the moonlight settles on the wings of the odd bird. You wouldn't be able to help it, you wouldn't likely be able to turn away; transfixed by what was happening.
-----
Finally!!! The moon touching my wings was like a blessing! I don't remember the last time I was on water, let alone around water when the moon rose. Immediately I could feel the magic grasping at me, and the water under me seeming to shine with light. My eyes shut, mostly because I don't like watching, but also because my current position made it brighter and more awkward. I knew what happened next well, anyways. The water would stream up, like it was under the control of another and being forced to dance. And when it would return to the body of water below, I'd be normal! As the light dimmed, and it finally settled down, I allowed my eyes to slowly open.
The spectacle was not to be so easily ignored. Where once there was a bird struggling to right itself, there was now a small pegasus stallion on that shallow pool of liquid. Thick white curls floated on the water, his hooves posed delicately over his chest, his hind legs draping over the fountain side. One wing was awkwardly crumpled up the side of the effigy spouting water onto his face, his other wing draping and extended out from the side of the fountain.
Wide, bright and youthful black eyes look around, and he seems to grow more confused by the moment. His ears pin and he finally notices a face. Had they been standing there the whole time? Odile smiles, his expression warm, gentle, filled with a dangerous level of naivety, "Oh! Hi there! Is this your fountain! I hope I didn't break anything, did I? I sure hope not! So . . . Is this Day Court?"
"Speech"
Thoughts
@Liam
Notes: <3 forgive me for the oddness of the post. I'm experimenting with the best way to write him.
