Solira: The Ocean: [OPEN] I wonder why the bird sings

What was that!
Did You hear it??

Can you even hear...anything?

Tick, tick, toc, down falls the raindrop. Down, down, around and around in your brains the gears churn and spin and win against your heart, oh my it's about to start!
Huyana stares, blankly at the purple fox that sits two horse lengths from her. He has his small, and cute head tilted to the side. His amber pools reflect her now charcoal figure, her winter coat completely grown in now giving the false pretense she is a black and not blue roan. His bushy tail thrums at his side, and under his muzzle a toothy grin is held, wicked in all ways she is certain; even as he appears harmless. Today he has wings, great black wings that look like a soot stained swan's. He has them lying, open, upon the ground. Odd to not have them folded, but then again, what isn't odd about a purple fox with black swan wings? Her hallucinations at least keep her entertained. He had done nothing yet to warrant her distaste except exist; assuming, that he does in fact exist- in her mind he does anyways. She snorted at him and abruptly turned her rump to his cute features, staring instead to the watery realm. Perhaps if she ignored him he'd go away. Perhaps if she preoccupies her mind with something else, he'll disintegrate. Perhaps not. But either way, Huyana lets her mind wander; and that my friends, can entail something more odd than the twisted images her mind's eye produces.

I wonder how it would be to fly in the highest cloud, to swim in the deepest depths of the fastest waters. I wonder, how would it be to climb a tree, to bask upon a boulder with not a care in the world. I wonder, how does it feel to die, how does it feel to love. I wonder, how does life work? How do I work, why do I work, what is my purpose. I wonder, if I have free will or if I am fooled into thinking every decision I make is by choice and not some preordained destiny. I wonder...
And she wondered for quit some time, a wondering gray film shrouding her pupils like a gray haze of fog. She relaxed her body and hung her head low to the ground, breathes whuffling out in visible clouds of carbon as she withdrew into herself and saw the world as it truly was. Have you ever stopped to consider how you live? Have you realized, suddenly, on some random day, that all you thought you knew and loved was wrong? Have you become aware that the home you treasure, the method you considered correct, was really screwed beyond belief? That the future is not so different from the past, just painted over with a new color. "The more things change, the more they stay the same." Do you understand that line? If you do, I am afraid then, that you have lost your innocence. I am afraid then, that no child dwells in your heart and any happiness or virginity of truth you seek shall now be crafted by your pure will and hope, a shadow of that which you possessed in your youth. If you have questioned life, and found an answer then you are dead. You may have created one to soothe your mind, but then that is a lie. Why are we here? Have you questioned death, have you spoken to its rotten face and asked why it does that which it does? And has it told you? Has Death told you it purifies these lands from those worthless and obsolete creations, making room for the new and the better that Life shall install? But who are Death and Life to say what is better? Who are we to say the same? What is right and what is wrong, what is truth and what are lies? Is perfection and beauty in the mind's eye, or the society in which we dwell? Are we truly individuals or just a reincarnation of someone who also lusted to be different, and yet was virtually, identical? Such things did her mind ponder upon, such restlessness stirred unwillingly in her heart.

"Why..." She whispered to herself, sighing as she shook her head and tossed all those questions into the back recesses of her mind, where they would brood until the next prime time to plague her. Ebon cords snaked along her robust haunches and meshed within her muddy hairs before sliding and twisting back down to her hocks. She continued to stare at the ground, tired of staring at the sky. Perhaps the ground had a voice, had answers that the sky did not. The fox yipped to her. She flicked an ear back to him, and rolling her shoulder blades back in a shrugging fashion lamented that he had not vanished. Annoyed by his presence she snapped her skull around, accusing eyes laced upon him and with a snarling voice drilled into his very existence with that one question that would forever remain upon her lips. "Why?"