[ Respond | Solira: The Ocean ]
Posted by slv. ALSHAIN; on January 21, 2009, 8:30 pm, in reply to "Finally" slv. A L S H A I N
198.7.241.80
TEN THOUSAND FISTS IN THE AIR
Left in Desreal and Andarin, a peregrine falcon, Alshain had been a shadow of what he had been. Directionless, aimless – he had no one to look up to him and, by consequence, no sense of purpose. He thought his life in Solira was forfeit as all the other past homes he’d made and then forsaken.
But he’s back – Back! – and his Twisterblade sings along with him the whipping, metallic serenades of invisible swords, leaping recklessly between his legs as he gallops and stirring up torrents of black mane along the coil of his gleaming mercury neck. As he runs there is a sense – both inside of him and externally – that nothing will stop him. I wouldn’t advise him to act on that, but he probably will.
He’s still violently reckless, y’know. And you’d think he would have been knocked straight by, y’know, death.
Yeah, nope.
Up ahead, he sees the King standing with a familiar mare. Alshain pauses midstride – his entire silver body seeming to pause in midair, his head lifting, his hooves suspending as naturally as a fish alters its direction in water – and when he lands again he’s going faster, and the winds have joined him in a joyful gallop –
He slides to a stop, dipping his raven muzzle in greeting to Marshall. “Hey, Marshall,” he says rather brightly, with a smile.
And then, he turns to Enola Gay, and his grin widens. “Enola Gay,” he says, and the smile is audible in his voice – it’s a certain sharp, soaring quality, passionate and impulsive as his Twisterblade and his expression. “You’re just in time to see Solira start kicking ass again.”
He never is going to be a politician, this one.
Which is good, because that’s not what he’s here for.
I AM INDESTRUCTIBLE
AIR II || TWISTERBLADE
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