HENRY
I was waiting for something extraordinary
but as the years wasted on...
but as the years wasted on...
Wings carry him over the gentle currents of a fresh, Flowerbirth breeze. Henry can only feel the cold grip of night, numb to the sense of hope and renewal that a new year offers. Still, he leans into it as it ruffles through his dark feathers. He's not quite looking down at the ground as he flies. Tonight he's incapable of sleep. Memories haunt his fractured mind, slipping in through cracks he can't mend. At least the moon understands his plight of trying to light up the darkness. The gaze of the eagle spans across the starry sky as he shadows it.
Another shadow dwells beneath him, however, movement catching his sharp eyes. It's a figure he recognizes immediately, and his heart instinctively races to reach out. He pivots in the air, the eagle's beastly form blotting out the light above Mabel as he glides over her head. He lands heavily onto the ground, but no playful squawk escapes him, no friendly call offered to her.
He lands there among the razed earth, stilling as he draws in his massive wingspan. There's a moment where he does nothing, makes no move towards her, simply blinks at it all.
Then he's himself again. The eagle gives way to the man, and he looks at Mabel without really looking at her. "You're alive," he says, chin lifting towards her; it's a gentle acknowledgement that, in spite of her fears, she triumphed. But he knows it doesn't feel like it. "I'm glad." He means it, but his voice lacks any real enthusiasm or heart.
Another shadow dwells beneath him, however, movement catching his sharp eyes. It's a figure he recognizes immediately, and his heart instinctively races to reach out. He pivots in the air, the eagle's beastly form blotting out the light above Mabel as he glides over her head. He lands heavily onto the ground, but no playful squawk escapes him, no friendly call offered to her.
He lands there among the razed earth, stilling as he draws in his massive wingspan. There's a moment where he does nothing, makes no move towards her, simply blinks at it all.
Then he's himself again. The eagle gives way to the man, and he looks at Mabel without really looking at her. "You're alive," he says, chin lifting towards her; it's a gentle acknowledgement that, in spite of her fears, she triumphed. But he knows it doesn't feel like it. "I'm glad." He means it, but his voice lacks any real enthusiasm or heart.
nothing ever did
unless I caused it
unless I caused it
