Post by moth on Dec 31, 2011 18:38:30 GMT -5
Moth watched Ben.
The lumbering beast roamed the hills, one of which had a tree stuck to it at an odd angle. Perched here was the little brown-winged angel. Her whispered greeting of "Hello, Ben." did not reach the giant cyclops, however, but died on the wind. The breeze whipped at the tiny fluff of hair on Ben's head, causing her to laugh lightly at the wild style it created. Her hair just lapped at her cheeks like a happy pup.
A long leg and bound foot dangled from the tree as Iramothe rested against its wildly-shaped trunk, the rest of her sprawled out over a great branch. No leaves kept the cold away, save for a few dead ones rattling in a valiant effort to stay in their places on the skinnier branches. It was futile, and the leaves should have known that. At the very least it was Moth's thought that they should. She had thought that every chance she could sit in this old tree and watch the Cyclops... so, very often nowadays.
"Ben, you're good company. You don't feel obligated to sit and listen." Attempt number two at conversation failed as well, but she tried at least. "And if I am quiet, we get along great, right?" The Cyclops just lumbered on about his business, whatever that business was. Iramothe did not care to know, since she could smell a rotten stench on the wind in that direction. Maybe he was preparing supper or something.
The girl's eyes glazed over as she peered in to the distance, watching the hills roll like ocean waves. Her hands idly rubbed her bow, polishing the handle with each stroke of her thumbs. Her wings took the opportunity to droop in content, thoughts swaying from one thing to another as the tree did.
The lumbering beast roamed the hills, one of which had a tree stuck to it at an odd angle. Perched here was the little brown-winged angel. Her whispered greeting of "Hello, Ben." did not reach the giant cyclops, however, but died on the wind. The breeze whipped at the tiny fluff of hair on Ben's head, causing her to laugh lightly at the wild style it created. Her hair just lapped at her cheeks like a happy pup.
A long leg and bound foot dangled from the tree as Iramothe rested against its wildly-shaped trunk, the rest of her sprawled out over a great branch. No leaves kept the cold away, save for a few dead ones rattling in a valiant effort to stay in their places on the skinnier branches. It was futile, and the leaves should have known that. At the very least it was Moth's thought that they should. She had thought that every chance she could sit in this old tree and watch the Cyclops... so, very often nowadays.
"Ben, you're good company. You don't feel obligated to sit and listen." Attempt number two at conversation failed as well, but she tried at least. "And if I am quiet, we get along great, right?" The Cyclops just lumbered on about his business, whatever that business was. Iramothe did not care to know, since she could smell a rotten stench on the wind in that direction. Maybe he was preparing supper or something.
The girl's eyes glazed over as she peered in to the distance, watching the hills roll like ocean waves. Her hands idly rubbed her bow, polishing the handle with each stroke of her thumbs. Her wings took the opportunity to droop in content, thoughts swaying from one thing to another as the tree did.