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Private  - smell the sea and feel the sky

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Played by Offline sid [PM] Posts: 26 — Threads: 3
Signos: 25
Inactive Character
#1


until every last star in the galaxy dies


Above him the sky stretched like an endless thing, so deep it seems to be inviting him to swim up, and up, and up until he reaches the bottom of it. And below him the entire earth curves gently, tucking itself away at the edges of the horizon like a child being put to bed. The sunlight turns it all blue, the clouds in the distance blurring the line between ground and sky, and Sirius wants to know what it would look like to see the sun breaking open the edge of the world as twilight sets in. 

There had been a poet in Denocte last night, pretending to know what it felt like to fly. Sirius had known him to be a liar from the moment he said there was nothing more peaceful, more quiet than the open sky - but there was nothing quiet about flying. 

The wind was whistling in his ears, whipping his mane around him like a halo, ruffling the feathers along his shoulders. And each stroke of his wings has him flying higher, and faster, and while the air is growing colder his blood is running hot enough for him to not feel it. Sirius is alone in the sky - save for the bits of stardust still streaking along behind him - for the better part of the morning. Until a tawny blur drops down on him from above with a screech, pulling a bit of his mane free before hurtling away into the open.

But the eagle is not so fast as he is. 

As the bird is darting past him Sirius is folding one wing, throwing his body into a sharp turn that has each bone and muscle screaming for relief. And then he tucks them in tightly, feathers against skin, and he is falling. 

The wind is a vicious thing, tearing the air from his lungs each time he tries to breathe, grabbing for his wings like it’s trying to rip them from his body. It might have been maddening, if he was not already used to it. If he hadn’t been made for this, if he hadn’t already felt the pain of imprisonment and known it to be worse than this free fall, he might have pulled back and let the eagle fade from view. Maybe if he had not been raised the way he was, his heart might not have leapt at the site of prey, and he would never have known the challenge in the eagle’s wingbeats.

But the thrill of a hunt is the hardest thing to let go of, and the distance between the two birds is closing. Even when all the court is promising him he could be whoever, whatever he wanted, begging him to choose - he is still a hunter. 

By the time the ground comes rushing up to meet them both, Sirius has caught up to the eagle. He twists in midair, darting forward to draw the bird from the sky by its wings. With his heart racing - and his prize struggling in his grasp, drawing bloody lines down his chest with its talons, wings thrusting like he’s still free - Sirius drops the last few yards and lands. 

For a moment he holds the bird out before him, silver eyes meeting his golden ones, one curious, the other guarded. Both of them are panting, but both have stopped struggling; the eagle stares at him now, wings drooping, beak parted, chest rising and falling quickly. It cries at him once, the weak-sounding whistle just loud enough to grate against his ears. And he continues to stare, for just a moment longer. 

Because he has never caught something before, and then gotten to decide for himself what to do with it. 

It still feels strange sometimes, living on his own whim. 

Finally he lets it go, freeing the bird with a flick of his telekinesis. For a moment it drops, unaware of its release; but then its wings catch the air, and three quick wingbeats later it is rising again. 



@Warset

@Sirius "speaks" notes: text
rallidae









Played by Offline nestle [PM] Posts: 34 — Threads: 3
Signos: 375
Night Court Citizen
Female [she/her/hers] // 4 [Year 501 Winter] // 16.2 hh // Hth: 10 — Atk: 10 — Exp: 16 // Active Magic: N/A // Bonded: N/A
#2



“Someday, the stars will reach back.”

The morning is wicking the night off her skin and the sun is leeching the hunger from her hollow feeling bones. Each time she licks her lips the taste of fur and blood is fading. As she walks, head low into the sweet grass, the pollen is washing away the stain, the burn, the fury of the predator lurking in her bones. And oh, oh, oh, those bones still feel the ache of becoming and the stiffness of steep mountain hunting. Warset feels like an ancient thing moving through the meadow, more like chewed out blackness (spit down, down, down to the earth) than the light behind the darkness.

How long has it been since she's felt like a star, a comet, a wish blazing hope across the dark battlefields of the cosmos?

How long? How long? How long?

Had it not been for the scream of the eagle she would not have looked up to see him. She had heard the whisper of his wings, of course, but the leopard, the fury, and the loneliness was still too new for her to want to look at him. Only her feathers had sung at the sound of him in the sky, a welcome softer than the wuff of her breath through the new-spring grass. If her heart is aching, if it's screaming, there is nothing in the hollow way she carries herself through the grass (all content predator and nothing of bird) to give it away.

And if it were not for the scent of blood, of violence, held in the air between him and the eagle when he lands close to her, Warset would not have lifted her head like a lion finding a wolf instead of vole. Instantly her wings spread out, a challenge as ingrained in her as the flicker of a star is imprinted in its fire. The blood-red moon on her neck ticks against her pulse when she lifts her head towards him. Once there would have been a story in the meeting of two constellations, once there would have been light.

Now there is only the silver-blaze of her mercury eyes, looking at him like a dead star looking at a bit of moon dust fallen into the grass. And there is only the echo of her voice, whisper thin below the roar of her feathers. “Why did you let it go?” Warset is curious of course, of the bloody marks running down his chest.

She's curious because she wouldn't have let the bird go.

And she's not sure why.














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