A Random Event Has Occurred!
The birds do not enjoy being ignored.
And so they decide that sitting up in canopy, singing songs of warning, no longer suits them.
All at once the bird chatter stops and they peer down to wonder how long it will take the horses below to realize that the silence between their words, and their touches, feels like a weight pressing down. They want to fan their feathers, and sigh out songs with the whisper of silk against hollow bone. But there is magic in their empty bones-- magic and nothing else.
The magic is telling them to be still and to be silent. They are listening like puppets because they are not really birds at all.
The silence makes an inhale and all that black weight starts to lift up into the trees where the hollow birds are waiting. Leaves start to shake and turn belly up and it's easy to wonder if a storm is starting to just bloat above island. But it's not rain that starts to fall past the trees down upon the horses talking below.
It's butterflies that are falling fast and heavy.
They only start to fly when they reach the space above Bexley and August. Like kisses they start to land on every inch of the horses, kisses that flutter in a breeze coming from the sea. They do not try to fly away.
And so they decide that sitting up in canopy, singing songs of warning, no longer suits them.
All at once the bird chatter stops and they peer down to wonder how long it will take the horses below to realize that the silence between their words, and their touches, feels like a weight pressing down. They want to fan their feathers, and sigh out songs with the whisper of silk against hollow bone. But there is magic in their empty bones-- magic and nothing else.
The magic is telling them to be still and to be silent. They are listening like puppets because they are not really birds at all.
The silence makes an inhale and all that black weight starts to lift up into the trees where the hollow birds are waiting. Leaves start to shake and turn belly up and it's easy to wonder if a storm is starting to just bloat above island. But it's not rain that starts to fall past the trees down upon the horses talking below.
It's butterflies that are falling fast and heavy.
They only start to fly when they reach the space above Bexley and August. Like kisses they start to land on every inch of the horses, kisses that flutter in a breeze coming from the sea. They do not try to fly away.
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Enjoy!
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