Post by Lyss on Sept 18, 2015 22:47:57 GMT
(IT'S HAPPENING GUYS)
With a final flap of her wings, Ateria landed silently on the crest of a hill. The lush grass was soft beneath her paws, almost abnormally so; it felt like a bird's down feathers more than anything. But that wasn't the strangest thing about the valley. As the sun slid towards the horizon, the sky's color began to fade to salmon, saturating the wispy cumulus clouds in deep pink. In a few minutes it would be blood red, then black and full of stars and milky galaxies. It was beautiful, in an eerie, unnerving sort of way.
She still wasn't used to the surface world. From what she used to hear from her fellow angels, the surface was a haven of sorts. They always talked about the emerald green forests and how much bluer the sky seemed to be when they were on the ground. Varatia, though... It was different. There was nothing natural about the place. In some areas, the trees were the wrong color all year round, and the sky was rarely blue. You could hardly walk five miles into the woods without running into some kind of aggressive, giant animal, or a person who had lost their mind and all instincts but one - kill or be killed. She heard it was because of a family of witches - particularly one said to live in the deepest, most dangerous depths of Embrum Woods - and their careless overuse of magic, but she wasn't entirely sure it was true.
The surface was dangerous. It wasn't a haven.
And she hated it.
Ateria sighed and resisted the urge to look at her wings, which had lost their beautiful, snow-white color and were now an awful grayish blue. She figured it was because of her fall from heaven. Like banishing me from my home wasn't enough. Thanks, seraphs. Appreciate it.
Not wanting to fall back into another cycle of moping and self-pity, the girl let her eyes dart about in search of a distraction. Her attention was grabbed by a nearby patch of violets. The flowers seemed to glow a bit in the dying sunlight. Ateria tilted her head in thought. Their color reminded her of something, but what?
With a final flap of her wings, Ateria landed silently on the crest of a hill. The lush grass was soft beneath her paws, almost abnormally so; it felt like a bird's down feathers more than anything. But that wasn't the strangest thing about the valley. As the sun slid towards the horizon, the sky's color began to fade to salmon, saturating the wispy cumulus clouds in deep pink. In a few minutes it would be blood red, then black and full of stars and milky galaxies. It was beautiful, in an eerie, unnerving sort of way.
She still wasn't used to the surface world. From what she used to hear from her fellow angels, the surface was a haven of sorts. They always talked about the emerald green forests and how much bluer the sky seemed to be when they were on the ground. Varatia, though... It was different. There was nothing natural about the place. In some areas, the trees were the wrong color all year round, and the sky was rarely blue. You could hardly walk five miles into the woods without running into some kind of aggressive, giant animal, or a person who had lost their mind and all instincts but one - kill or be killed. She heard it was because of a family of witches - particularly one said to live in the deepest, most dangerous depths of Embrum Woods - and their careless overuse of magic, but she wasn't entirely sure it was true.
The surface was dangerous. It wasn't a haven.
And she hated it.
Ateria sighed and resisted the urge to look at her wings, which had lost their beautiful, snow-white color and were now an awful grayish blue. She figured it was because of her fall from heaven. Like banishing me from my home wasn't enough. Thanks, seraphs. Appreciate it.
Not wanting to fall back into another cycle of moping and self-pity, the girl let her eyes dart about in search of a distraction. Her attention was grabbed by a nearby patch of violets. The flowers seemed to glow a bit in the dying sunlight. Ateria tilted her head in thought. Their color reminded her of something, but what?