Post by Brownie on Feb 23, 2019 16:27:33 GMT -5
[ ramble before edits I forgot how to make drafts eek
idk just a THing I don't even remember what the mc's name is supposed to be?
no flashbacks yet but those should be a thing (the majority of the thing actually, those are the actual Prose)
yes, Kor is a raven. the rest of them are cats tho. from the sunbird worldbuild I did a looooong time back. birds are sacred. Kor is bonded with Ava. it's not that unusual to have intelligent birds help the Sunbirds but it is pretty uncommon for one to have such a close tie as Kor and Ava (but that's mostly because of Day which will come later ig)
anyways have more rambles in this world cuz I'm bored and that's what happens right
okay so the first story with our mc and Day was called 'carved by day' and it was on the old forums but I can't find it or any copy so the mc's name with be ava since there's nothing to contradict that and I don't remember her name
NEVERMIND I FOUND IT. her name is Tara <3
the other character from the Games was ava I knew it came from somewhere. but ava is like, young. Tara is the Savior of the World (but she wasn't, Day was) and I remember the plotline of this now niceeeee ]
- - -
Two hundred fifty seven.
That was how many long-silent-nights passed since we last saw yellow-flash-eyes-Day.
She buried her head in her paws, blocking out the sun-that-should-not-be. I had long since given up trying to console her. Yet I could not bring myself to leave. Her sorrow-of-storm-wind-days made my bones ache, her pain-burning-blood was ice over my wings, her muffled-feather-silence made me shake as I stood beside her, curled beneath the holly bush we had hidden in for days, months and seasons.
The holly bush was the last place we had seen Day.
I hopped to her shoulder, bringing with me a chunk of rabbit rumble-mountain-voice-Ollie had caught the night before. I pushed it closer to her pink-berry-nose, willing her to eat. She didn't move, not even when I squawked and pulled on her fur. Defeated, I returned to my place by her shoulder and contented myself to watch, patiently, waiting. Waiting for her to wake from her storm-sorrow-dream. Or waiting for yellow-flash-eyes-Day. Whichever came first.
. . .
On night three hundred and five it started to snow.
Inside the holly bush, however, it was warm. Rumble-paws-Ollie and orange-fire-fur-Muna had fortified it with brambles and heather so that the life-thief-cold could not do us harm. They worried over her as much as I. Yet no matter what we said or did, she would not leave the holly. Most the time she would sleep, rarely would she look at me with eyes-that-do-not-see.
Ollie-rumble paws approached and touched his nose to her clout-spotted-dragonfire-flank, listening to her moth-wing-heartbeat. "Will she be okay, Kor?" he asked me. I tipped my head and watched as she twitched in her sleep, perhaps reacting to Ollie's feather-light-touch or perhaps to the storm-sorrow-dream tormenting her heart. Ollie shook his head and returned to Muna's side.
I pressed up against her until she stopped shaking. Then I slept.
. . .
Night four hundred sixty three.
The snow had all but melted in the bright spring light. Muna and Ollie had both left with the thaw, eager to return to the leaping-green-tree-world and the rock-shade-sand-hollow the Owls claimed as a camp during the warm seasons. Some Owls came to check on us as they passed by, but without Ollie I was forced away to hunt and provide for the both of us. The loam-rain-earth-smell of spring and the chill-tempered-sun-sky made me long to fly for days and days on end. The want --the need-- pulled on my beast-soul-and-heart, yet I never lingered. I ate, I gathered, and I returned to her side.
Nights passed.
Then she woke up.
. . .
It was day.
"Kor?" Her voice was muffled-feather-soft, wind-in-night-leaves. I hopped closer, tipped my head to see her clear-sky-sun-green-eyes. I clicked in joy, hopped and raised my wings. "Day is dead," she stated.
Worry settled back into that familiar place. "Taraa."
"it's warm." She sighed and with it I could feel the sorrow-of-storm-and-wind leave her body, leave her hollow. She stood shakily, stepped forward, looked outside across the green-birth-new-spring-moor. "Home," she said.
And walked outside.
idk just a THing I don't even remember what the mc's name is supposed to be?
no flashbacks yet but those should be a thing (the majority of the thing actually, those are the actual Prose)
yes, Kor is a raven. the rest of them are cats tho. from the sunbird worldbuild I did a looooong time back. birds are sacred. Kor is bonded with Ava. it's not that unusual to have intelligent birds help the Sunbirds but it is pretty uncommon for one to have such a close tie as Kor and Ava (but that's mostly because of Day which will come later ig)
anyways have more rambles in this world cuz I'm bored and that's what happens right
okay so the first story with our mc and Day was called 'carved by day' and it was on the old forums but I can't find it or any copy so the mc's name with be ava since there's nothing to contradict that and I don't remember her name
NEVERMIND I FOUND IT. her name is Tara <3
the other character from the Games was ava I knew it came from somewhere. but ava is like, young. Tara is the Savior of the World (but she wasn't, Day was) and I remember the plotline of this now niceeeee ]
- - -
Two hundred fifty seven.
That was how many long-silent-nights passed since we last saw yellow-flash-eyes-Day.
She buried her head in her paws, blocking out the sun-that-should-not-be. I had long since given up trying to console her. Yet I could not bring myself to leave. Her sorrow-of-storm-wind-days made my bones ache, her pain-burning-blood was ice over my wings, her muffled-feather-silence made me shake as I stood beside her, curled beneath the holly bush we had hidden in for days, months and seasons.
The holly bush was the last place we had seen Day.
I hopped to her shoulder, bringing with me a chunk of rabbit rumble-mountain-voice-Ollie had caught the night before. I pushed it closer to her pink-berry-nose, willing her to eat. She didn't move, not even when I squawked and pulled on her fur. Defeated, I returned to my place by her shoulder and contented myself to watch, patiently, waiting. Waiting for her to wake from her storm-sorrow-dream. Or waiting for yellow-flash-eyes-Day. Whichever came first.
. . .
On night three hundred and five it started to snow.
Inside the holly bush, however, it was warm. Rumble-paws-Ollie and orange-fire-fur-Muna had fortified it with brambles and heather so that the life-thief-cold could not do us harm. They worried over her as much as I. Yet no matter what we said or did, she would not leave the holly. Most the time she would sleep, rarely would she look at me with eyes-that-do-not-see.
Ollie-rumble paws approached and touched his nose to her clout-spotted-dragonfire-flank, listening to her moth-wing-heartbeat. "Will she be okay, Kor?" he asked me. I tipped my head and watched as she twitched in her sleep, perhaps reacting to Ollie's feather-light-touch or perhaps to the storm-sorrow-dream tormenting her heart. Ollie shook his head and returned to Muna's side.
I pressed up against her until she stopped shaking. Then I slept.
. . .
Night four hundred sixty three.
The snow had all but melted in the bright spring light. Muna and Ollie had both left with the thaw, eager to return to the leaping-green-tree-world and the rock-shade-sand-hollow the Owls claimed as a camp during the warm seasons. Some Owls came to check on us as they passed by, but without Ollie I was forced away to hunt and provide for the both of us. The loam-rain-earth-smell of spring and the chill-tempered-sun-sky made me long to fly for days and days on end. The want --the need-- pulled on my beast-soul-and-heart, yet I never lingered. I ate, I gathered, and I returned to her side.
Nights passed.
Then she woke up.
. . .
It was day.
"Kor?" Her voice was muffled-feather-soft, wind-in-night-leaves. I hopped closer, tipped my head to see her clear-sky-sun-green-eyes. I clicked in joy, hopped and raised my wings. "Day is dead," she stated.
Worry settled back into that familiar place. "Taraa."
"it's warm." She sighed and with it I could feel the sorrow-of-storm-and-wind leave her body, leave her hollow. She stood shakily, stepped forward, looked outside across the green-birth-new-spring-moor. "Home," she said.
And walked outside.