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+---- Thread: Rainforest Cliffs The Sparrow and the Dragon (/showthread.php?tid=809)
The Sparrow and the Dragon - Aryel - 01-14-2018
@Roscorro
She had first met Java in a place not unlike this, a sunswept tropical island heavy with the scents of flowers and fruit. It was a quirk of fate that the girl's first real friend would not even be one of her own kind, but instead a fruit bat. The bat's intelligent, gentle nature seemed the polar opposite of the fiery mare, but the two balanced eachother out surprisingly well--both were lonely souls seeking camaraderie and a life beyond what had always been expected of them.
And now, he was gone.
Waking up every morning without Java nestled under her wing only served to reopen the wound that his disappearance had left. She had no idea where the little bat had been deposited when they were torn from their world into this place, or even if he was alive or not. He couldn't be dead, he just couldn't. She would have felt it if he was, she would have known somehow. At least, that's what she told herself.
Spying these cliffs from the air, she had flown down to investigate, hoping that perhaps he would be there, roosting in the towering trees, sipping nectar, and eating fruit. Aryel had spent the day searching for him, despite the bizarre lights she kept seeing out of the corner of her eye and the feral cries that sang through the air. But as the sun rose to its zenith, and the air became oppressively hot and humid, she was forced to cease her searching for the moment. Her flanks were streaked with sweat, and the close quarters of the rainforest meant that even she had difficulty unfurling her wings to their full length. She hated enclosed spaces, particularly those in which she couldn't escape to the air, and she was itching to be away from the claustrophobic rainforest full of unfamiliar scents and sounds.
The cliffs provided a welcome respite from the deep jungle. Here, the trees thinned out greatly, and the ocean breeze was infinitely more pleasant than the still air within the rainforest. She stretched her wings out, sighing in relief as the cool wind brushed her overheated sides, then settled down on the dusty ground, folding her legs under her with her wings splayed to either side. The temperature would climb through the afternoon, she knew, until dusk finally came to chase the burning sun away. Until then, she would rest and enjoy the view.
RE: The Sparrow and the Dragon - Roscorro - 01-14-2018
Roscorro
"Feasgar ciùin an tùs a' Chèitein." (On a quiet evening at the beginning of May) A voice drifted through the air. Rich and smooth as molasses as its pleasant tones rose and fell, as warm as the air itself. "Nuair bha 'n ialtag anns na speuran..." (When the bat was in the skies). The song floated among the trees as the its owner walked on, seemingly unbothered by the heat or the hostile world he lived within. A song, as old as the dragons that walked his homeland, was a personal favorite of the mare that had raised him. And so he sang in the tongue she spoke, a ting of longing layered with a touch light of hope wove into the song, befitting the words he sang.
"Chualaim rìbhinn òg 's i deurach
'Seinn fo sgàil nan geugan uain'
Bha a' ghrian 'sa chuan gu sìoladh
'S reult cha d' èirich anns an iarmailt
Nuair a sheinn an òigh gu cianail
"Tha mo ghaol air àird a' chuain"
Large back hooves left deep prints within the rich soil as hardened front claws upon his front, draconic paws left small gouges in the earth. His long, hairy tail swayed in a slow rhythmic manner as his body seemed to roll from side to side to the slow beat of his song. As he sang he felt the pang of loneliness within his heart. He dearly missed the little mare that had raised him. So he sang. Not many heard the bestial creature sing, but when he did choose to open his mouth all stopped to lend and ear. For as ugly and terrifying as he was, his voice was like unto a songbird. Perhaps it was the dragon within him, fore they were known for their beautiful singing voice. Some had the power to even woo and control others with their magnificent pipes.
For creatures with a lust for war and bloodshed, they truly loved the fine arts. Music most of all. But the gentle giant was not such a beast, though he could not deny the dark flame that smoldered within him. Though he tried to smother it that voice would emerge again and again. Images would appear in his mind along with thoughts that were not his own. But that melted away as he sang, the warmth of his pleasant memories of his tiny mother keeping it at bay. So he sang. He sang because he wanted to feel close to her. He sang because he missed her. He sang because he was sad and happy at the same time. His life had been full of hardships, losses, and trials. But it was a beautiful life full of friendship, new wonders, and laughter. And so he sang his favorite song as he wandered his new homeland, feeling a sense of loyalty and affection for the land that had granted him his freedom. Though at times it was harsh and cruel, it had given him much. He continued to place one foot in front of her other as he sung his tune.
talk talk talk talk
"Chualaim rìbhinn òg 's i deurach
'Seinn fo sgàil nan geugan uain'
Bha a' ghrian 'sa chuan gu sìoladh
'S reult cha d' èirich anns an iarmailt
Nuair a sheinn an òigh gu cianail
"Tha mo ghaol air àird a' chuain"
Large back hooves left deep prints within the rich soil as hardened front claws upon his front, draconic paws left small gouges in the earth. His long, hairy tail swayed in a slow rhythmic manner as his body seemed to roll from side to side to the slow beat of his song. As he sang he felt the pang of loneliness within his heart. He dearly missed the little mare that had raised him. So he sang. Not many heard the bestial creature sing, but when he did choose to open his mouth all stopped to lend and ear. For as ugly and terrifying as he was, his voice was like unto a songbird. Perhaps it was the dragon within him, fore they were known for their beautiful singing voice. Some had the power to even woo and control others with their magnificent pipes.
For creatures with a lust for war and bloodshed, they truly loved the fine arts. Music most of all. But the gentle giant was not such a beast, though he could not deny the dark flame that smoldered within him. Though he tried to smother it that voice would emerge again and again. Images would appear in his mind along with thoughts that were not his own. But that melted away as he sang, the warmth of his pleasant memories of his tiny mother keeping it at bay. So he sang. He sang because he wanted to feel close to her. He sang because he missed her. He sang because he was sad and happy at the same time. His life had been full of hardships, losses, and trials. But it was a beautiful life full of friendship, new wonders, and laughter. And so he sang his favorite song as he wandered his new homeland, feeling a sense of loyalty and affection for the land that had granted him his freedom. Though at times it was harsh and cruel, it had given him much. He continued to place one foot in front of her other as he sung his tune.
talk talk talk talk
You Can be king again
ooc: The lyrics.
I heard a tearful young maiden
Singing beneath the shadow of the green branches
The sun was setting in the sea
And no stars yet graced the sky
When the young girl sang sorrowfully
"My love is on the high seas"
And song -> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vfj67q0vkTE
@Aryel