09-28-2018, 10:22 PM
✮ / : exodus was swimming.
a rare sight, to be sure. owed to the merited luxury of her ease filled life and upbringing, the barbaric gal knew the graces of leisure and tasted the peace of fitful idleness. the few hours in her day that wasn't spent hunting, exploring, sleeping or building the insurmountable bonds with her packmates was spent doing things like this.
leg muscles churned as she kicked lackadaisically within the bay’s waters. she clung to the edges of the shore, just enough that her feet could touch the ground if she wished. she had no knowledge of fear in her young body, yet something deep and innate within her bones warned her away from the deeper end where monstrous shadows kissed it's depths. somehow she knew there would be no saving her should she journey into the unknown.
the water was pacifying to the youth’s form-- the liquid blanketed her feathered body, but never clung to her quills. she could feel the gentle shift as the waves rocked gently; a cradle just for her, and she stayed at the top, with easeful grace as if she had been born to dwell with the sea all along.
to anyone unversed in the secrets of her ilk, how the youth managed to stay afloat would seem like a mystery. the water did not cloy her earthen feathers-- it did not hold her captive or drag her down with soggy weight until she was a sputtering, struggling mess.
her advantage all lied in the structure of her feathers; tiny barbules weaved together, holding captive air pockets within their interlocking grasp that kept her buoyant. the knitted infrastructure kept her aloft, and rebuked water from pulling her down. exodus did not know the inner workings her own nature, but she did not dwell on it. did not have the mind to. she was not nearly as curious as her own dear brother.
the self discovery of her proficiency in swimming was enthralling enough, and her pleasure was evidenced in the satisfied gurgling purr lurking in her throat as she warmed her back in the sun’s rays while she allowed the tug of the water to pull her this way and that, admiring her reflection in the glistening waters. much like a swan, with all the prehistoric menace to match.
yes, the striker of the typhoon was taking a well deserved break from her nonexistant responsibilities. doing nothing all day was a harrowing practice.
a rare sight, to be sure. owed to the merited luxury of her ease filled life and upbringing, the barbaric gal knew the graces of leisure and tasted the peace of fitful idleness. the few hours in her day that wasn't spent hunting, exploring, sleeping or building the insurmountable bonds with her packmates was spent doing things like this.
leg muscles churned as she kicked lackadaisically within the bay’s waters. she clung to the edges of the shore, just enough that her feet could touch the ground if she wished. she had no knowledge of fear in her young body, yet something deep and innate within her bones warned her away from the deeper end where monstrous shadows kissed it's depths. somehow she knew there would be no saving her should she journey into the unknown.
the water was pacifying to the youth’s form-- the liquid blanketed her feathered body, but never clung to her quills. she could feel the gentle shift as the waves rocked gently; a cradle just for her, and she stayed at the top, with easeful grace as if she had been born to dwell with the sea all along.
to anyone unversed in the secrets of her ilk, how the youth managed to stay afloat would seem like a mystery. the water did not cloy her earthen feathers-- it did not hold her captive or drag her down with soggy weight until she was a sputtering, struggling mess.
her advantage all lied in the structure of her feathers; tiny barbules weaved together, holding captive air pockets within their interlocking grasp that kept her buoyant. the knitted infrastructure kept her aloft, and rebuked water from pulling her down. exodus did not know the inner workings her own nature, but she did not dwell on it. did not have the mind to. she was not nearly as curious as her own dear brother.
the self discovery of her proficiency in swimming was enthralling enough, and her pleasure was evidenced in the satisfied gurgling purr lurking in her throat as she warmed her back in the sun’s rays while she allowed the tug of the water to pull her this way and that, admiring her reflection in the glistening waters. much like a swan, with all the prehistoric menace to match.
yes, the striker of the typhoon was taking a well deserved break from her nonexistant responsibilities. doing nothing all day was a harrowing practice.
im like a bull in a china shop
knocking off a knock off .
"cause i got no culture of mine" — exodus — typhoon — feathered raptor — info