Post by glamourie on Sept 9, 2009 7:26:58 GMT -5
He twirled through the leaves, kicking them up and around him before pulling upward in the shower of falling vegetation. The beating of his wings pushed most of the fluttering leaves away, either higher, lower or further behind than he flew and Checkoth flew upwards at an angle. Quick dives weren’t his specialty. Neither was agility. He was fairly proud of the shower of color all around him though, of the green that mingled with his own brown hide; in the fall it would have matched him, too. Wymeth’s drop made his eyes whirl and he beat his wings faster to try and keep up – she was far enough ahead that it took active effort to do just that. He wouldn’t let her get away though – not with the Monster so close by (he didn’t mind the others, though – he really didn’t!). She might have gotten hurt and Checkoth didn’t trust that brute not to hurt her. Bad, he was. Wymeth might not have remembered the bad ones but he did, vividly; he could never forget. His was hurt badly that day, all because he failed to protect him. Oh, he remembered it perfectly.
Unlike Checkoth, though, R’wign was in no hurry to catch up with his green. On the ledge he came to a perfect stop and then took several steps back, head shaking. It was a long way down. He wasn’t even sure that he could survive the drop. His stomach did a nice twist at the idea and R’wign recoiled, visibly backing away. His hands settled on the stone wall behind him. No woman was worth throwing himself off that ledge. The others could suicidally fling themselves after her. He would remain right where he was, where he was safe from the crashing waves and rocks, and hope that she didn’t go splat on the rocks below. No – no, she mustn’t have considering that Checkoth was still able to Chase Wymeth (and the feelings hadn’t started to diminish even remotely). His head rested back on the stone and he forced himself to remain perfectly still but it was a conscious effort – he had to fight to keep from falling into Checkoth’s feelings; perhaps the side effect of having been sick for so long…? If so, that was extremely weird…
Not that Checkoth noticed R’wign fighting against his feelings; he wasn’t even remotely aware of his rider as he swept up, answering Wymeth’s call with his own. He turned on his wings in a quick aerial somersault, pleased to find himself able to keep up if not as well as the smaller colors. At least he wasn’t lagging behind like the bronze, though he almost felt sorry for the other male. His wings beat more insistently as his mind raced with ways to make himself stand out – he wasn’t violent and he was decidedly not graceful in comparison to the smaller colors (and he knew better than to try to be). He didn’t know what to do to make himself special; Checkoth settled for turning loops, as that was something he was getting very good at. Just quick flips through the air like loose barrel rolls, nothing too impressive but at least it wasn’t straight flying. He was trying.
His eyes whirled quicker as she dropped her wings and the words brushing through his mind were the only thing he needed to forget the other chasers entirely. He crooned to her, that one sound more filled with affection than any he’d made, and he dove down to grasp Wymeth; he wouldn’t let her fall, no no no. He didn’t speak – words weren’t important, were they?
The wave of feeling that washed over his mind wasn’t his own, but it was strong enough to chase off what remained of R’wign’s anxiety. His posture changed drastically – from tense, anxious even, to a playful comfort that more distinctly resembled his normal personality, minus the conceit. His head cocked to the side and then he took off at a running jump off the ledge. Any fear about dropping down was gone – he had wings, what did it matter if he fell? Just the same, it was a dive (some part of him was still aware enough to know that the fall was enough to be dangerous, even if the rocks below were no longer frightening), and he hit the water with quite a sufficient splash. Were R’wign’s consciousness still there, he’d have been terrified; it was deep, his breathing wasn’t that good, and he’d just gone tumbling off one of the ledges –
But R’wign wasn’t there. The majority of his mind was washed away by the absolute trust that Checkoth had in Wymeth – she wouldn’t let him get hurt, would she? Just because she couldn’t feel pain didn’t mean that he couldn’t, she knew , so he didn’t believe she’d let him be harmed any more than he would let her. The water hurt, but he resurfaced, spluttering awkwardly with long black locks splayed around his face enough to disguise his identity… not that it was necessary, since the awkward way he managed to swim to the little island that Vashti claimed as her own made it very clear who he was. R’wign and Checkoth both were not swimming creatures. An odd thought popped into his mind – that the little river-island seemed familiar somehow – before it was brushed away and R’wign stumbled, sopping wet, right up to Vashti. See, see – he’d jumped down after her, he’d follow her anywhere.
His hands came up to her waist, pulling her against him. His green. He’d come down from the cliffs for her and he wasn’t going to lose her to anyone else. His lovely, beautiful vision in pale shades~
Unlike Checkoth, though, R’wign was in no hurry to catch up with his green. On the ledge he came to a perfect stop and then took several steps back, head shaking. It was a long way down. He wasn’t even sure that he could survive the drop. His stomach did a nice twist at the idea and R’wign recoiled, visibly backing away. His hands settled on the stone wall behind him. No woman was worth throwing himself off that ledge. The others could suicidally fling themselves after her. He would remain right where he was, where he was safe from the crashing waves and rocks, and hope that she didn’t go splat on the rocks below. No – no, she mustn’t have considering that Checkoth was still able to Chase Wymeth (and the feelings hadn’t started to diminish even remotely). His head rested back on the stone and he forced himself to remain perfectly still but it was a conscious effort – he had to fight to keep from falling into Checkoth’s feelings; perhaps the side effect of having been sick for so long…? If so, that was extremely weird…
Not that Checkoth noticed R’wign fighting against his feelings; he wasn’t even remotely aware of his rider as he swept up, answering Wymeth’s call with his own. He turned on his wings in a quick aerial somersault, pleased to find himself able to keep up if not as well as the smaller colors. At least he wasn’t lagging behind like the bronze, though he almost felt sorry for the other male. His wings beat more insistently as his mind raced with ways to make himself stand out – he wasn’t violent and he was decidedly not graceful in comparison to the smaller colors (and he knew better than to try to be). He didn’t know what to do to make himself special; Checkoth settled for turning loops, as that was something he was getting very good at. Just quick flips through the air like loose barrel rolls, nothing too impressive but at least it wasn’t straight flying. He was trying.
His eyes whirled quicker as she dropped her wings and the words brushing through his mind were the only thing he needed to forget the other chasers entirely. He crooned to her, that one sound more filled with affection than any he’d made, and he dove down to grasp Wymeth; he wouldn’t let her fall, no no no. He didn’t speak – words weren’t important, were they?
The wave of feeling that washed over his mind wasn’t his own, but it was strong enough to chase off what remained of R’wign’s anxiety. His posture changed drastically – from tense, anxious even, to a playful comfort that more distinctly resembled his normal personality, minus the conceit. His head cocked to the side and then he took off at a running jump off the ledge. Any fear about dropping down was gone – he had wings, what did it matter if he fell? Just the same, it was a dive (some part of him was still aware enough to know that the fall was enough to be dangerous, even if the rocks below were no longer frightening), and he hit the water with quite a sufficient splash. Were R’wign’s consciousness still there, he’d have been terrified; it was deep, his breathing wasn’t that good, and he’d just gone tumbling off one of the ledges –
But R’wign wasn’t there. The majority of his mind was washed away by the absolute trust that Checkoth had in Wymeth – she wouldn’t let him get hurt, would she? Just because she couldn’t feel pain didn’t mean that he couldn’t, she knew , so he didn’t believe she’d let him be harmed any more than he would let her. The water hurt, but he resurfaced, spluttering awkwardly with long black locks splayed around his face enough to disguise his identity… not that it was necessary, since the awkward way he managed to swim to the little island that Vashti claimed as her own made it very clear who he was. R’wign and Checkoth both were not swimming creatures. An odd thought popped into his mind – that the little river-island seemed familiar somehow – before it was brushed away and R’wign stumbled, sopping wet, right up to Vashti. See, see – he’d jumped down after her, he’d follow her anywhere.
His hands came up to her waist, pulling her against him. His green. He’d come down from the cliffs for her and he wasn’t going to lose her to anyone else. His lovely, beautiful vision in pale shades~