stranger than earth

s a v e r a We might be hollow, but we're brave Woosh! A bullet of gold and steel: that is all the observer might see, should they try to track the Morning Star's trajectory through the Rift. Far below the world streaks by, a smear of white and red slashed with towering peaks and plunging valleys, the violent topography eerily quiet in the frozen half-light of glittering dusk. Around them mountains cut into the sky, behemoths casting shadows, blotting out the sky and creating a cage-like effect that the girl finds thrilling. It is cold, far too cold, and the air is thin; every breath is a challenge, every action a feat. Her muscles ache, but Savera does not care: the challenge is exhilarating - and besides, she deserves a degree of punishment, for in leaving the North and her family's embrace she has done A Naughty Thing. Far below, Devi disagrees. Like a shadow the gryphon tracks her mate, bronze wings outstretched in a lazy glide as the little cat drifts on a current of warm air. Why hurt yourself, the creature reasons, just because you grew tired of isolation, of a life spent chasing a past you never knew? It is the reasoning they settled on, after all, the argument for their departure: their family may mourn Helovia, but for the quiet pair home has ever been the Rift. Things have changed, surely, settled, shifted in time - and even if they haven't, a little excitement is better than hiding away. A little excitement never hurt anyone - this is what the girl retorts. Yet she acquiesces in a way, wide wings snapping shut, streamlined body suddenly arcing, spinning, plunging toward the far-away ground. A meteor, she plummets out of the sky, cold air biting cruelly at her body. She laughs, and it is torn away by the raging wind; she aims for her companion and the griffin hoots indignantly, lunging form her languid glide to avoid the falling filly. The ground rises to reach Savera, now fifty lengths away, now forty, now closer, closer, and she continues to fall - Snap! the wings open, catching the cold air, and the girl slips into an updraft before becoming a smear on the ground. She can scarcely hear the roaring wind over the thunder of her heart, and as she lands her pulse pounds hot, blood searing through her body, adrenaline firing through every nerve. The griffin's descent is slower, more graceful; she lands upon her companion gently, unimpressed by the theatrics and glad to be on land. They have reached the foothills of the southern ridge, the first leg of their great journey done, and the morning star breathes heavily, terror and thrill and guilt and glee dancing merrily in her fluttering heart. She misses Neaera desperately, but Devi is right: they cannot mourn Helovia forever. It is time for them to reenter the world, to be home. ooc ;; time: dusk | color: steel @Virga & open!