09-13-2018, 08:31 AM
[div style="cursor: url("http://cur.cursors-4u.net/cursors/cur-9/cur836.cur"), auto; margin: 0 auto; border-width:0; width: 70%; text-align: justify; line-height: 1.5; font-family: arial; font-size: 9pt;"]Mechanical, needs to be reoiled. Shifting, coiling, rusting. Moving with sharp angles, no elegance to be seen. Limbs, stiff and cold. Feathers showing white and gold, ruffled from the shackles of sleep and decay – left to collect dust, weightless and floating. Eyes. Robotic, shifting from side to side. One eye open, one eye closed. Jaws slightly parted, consuming the air about it. Virgo, drowsy by the cold, rises onto her two gangly feet. It appears her sister has been reaping a lot of attention lately and the self-proclaimed alpha is displeased with this information. She shakes her feathers, lungs inflating from a large gasp of air before squeezing the waste back into the atmosphere, gaze freezing along the environment surrounding her regal nest. A royal aura begins to return to her features, brimming her snowy feathers that line her beautiful face.
The raptor purrs to herself, trying to warm her own body before she leaves to go onto the beach. Her legs move so naturally across the sand as though she were born to be a desert dweller, flicking grains effortlessly as she traverses the wide landscape about her. Her eyes are perplexed by the colours of the rising sun, the orange and pinks that line the overworld in glorified indifference. If emotions ruled and bubbled within the utahraptor, perhaps the barbaric girl would romanticize this scene that has been perfected before her ungrateful eyes, dressed in an aesthetic beauty that only the intellectuals would adore. It is not to say, however, that Virgo was incapable of registering anything considered ‘intelligent’. No, the reptile merely lacked this idea mortals called morality. She doesn’t bear a conscience for nothing was written upon her soul when she was created, nothing coded for the girl to feel sorry for what she did. Virgo knew only survival, selfishness and the pack.
A warm gloss of orange shuffles from sight, its movement immediately alerting the girl that her nostrils flare for its salted scent. Her feathers part from her skin, fluffing as the girl begins to reanimate, quickly kicking the sand with her sharp talons as she runs after the shelled creature, the mysterious crustacean. Her gaze flutters back and forth, recognizing the tracks left behind. Virgo lowers her body, creeping towards it. She is a huntress, body lowered and streamlined to run and chase. The white-feathered creature creeps silently, only the shuffles and murmurs of sand disturb the unsettling peace when her face comes dangerously close to the creature. Earthly eyes glint in the sunlight, teeth enveloped in malice and naïve of the weapons which were born by the creature’s arms, pincers.
Virgo’s mistake was letting her excitement overtake her, a chitter roll from the depths of her throat and alerting the crab to turn around and nip at her nose. The raptor, not expecting the prey to fight back, squeals in the sharp pain. For such a small creature, the reptilian surely had a big set of lungs because her cry slices through the air, a devastation which lands on the ears of unfortunate crewmates too close to block the array of sounds.
The raptor purrs to herself, trying to warm her own body before she leaves to go onto the beach. Her legs move so naturally across the sand as though she were born to be a desert dweller, flicking grains effortlessly as she traverses the wide landscape about her. Her eyes are perplexed by the colours of the rising sun, the orange and pinks that line the overworld in glorified indifference. If emotions ruled and bubbled within the utahraptor, perhaps the barbaric girl would romanticize this scene that has been perfected before her ungrateful eyes, dressed in an aesthetic beauty that only the intellectuals would adore. It is not to say, however, that Virgo was incapable of registering anything considered ‘intelligent’. No, the reptile merely lacked this idea mortals called morality. She doesn’t bear a conscience for nothing was written upon her soul when she was created, nothing coded for the girl to feel sorry for what she did. Virgo knew only survival, selfishness and the pack.
A warm gloss of orange shuffles from sight, its movement immediately alerting the girl that her nostrils flare for its salted scent. Her feathers part from her skin, fluffing as the girl begins to reanimate, quickly kicking the sand with her sharp talons as she runs after the shelled creature, the mysterious crustacean. Her gaze flutters back and forth, recognizing the tracks left behind. Virgo lowers her body, creeping towards it. She is a huntress, body lowered and streamlined to run and chase. The white-feathered creature creeps silently, only the shuffles and murmurs of sand disturb the unsettling peace when her face comes dangerously close to the creature. Earthly eyes glint in the sunlight, teeth enveloped in malice and naïve of the weapons which were born by the creature’s arms, pincers.
Virgo’s mistake was letting her excitement overtake her, a chitter roll from the depths of her throat and alerting the crab to turn around and nip at her nose. The raptor, not expecting the prey to fight back, squeals in the sharp pain. For such a small creature, the reptilian surely had a big set of lungs because her cry slices through the air, a devastation which lands on the ears of unfortunate crewmates too close to block the array of sounds.
