but now it is a competition of whichever is heavier:
my will, or the pull of gravity into the grave
my will, or the pull of gravity into the grave
Atop the thickly woven branches cresting over into the top of the rose hedges, a large golden falcon sits basking in the weak autumn sunshine. Hotaru has explored nearly every border of Kings End and all within, but the labyrinthine garden reminds her of the Grounds and the squirrels that run amuck within. They are absent here as made clear by the quiet of the morning, uninterrupted by calls to chase and run. A shame. She had quite enjoyed hunting them with Deimos.
It is not something so strong as bloodlust that has her wings emerging as she spirals into the sky. Urges from her animal form, restlessness, whatever it is that motivates her doesn’t require examination. She wants to hunt. So she will hunt.
Hotaru circles lazily overhead, sharp eyes peering down at the gardens, idly searching for movement and life.
It is not something so strong as bloodlust that has her wings emerging as she spirals into the sky. Urges from her animal form, restlessness, whatever it is that motivates her doesn’t require examination. She wants to hunt. So she will hunt.
Hotaru circles lazily overhead, sharp eyes peering down at the gardens, idly searching for movement and life.
