a world outside sobeille's own droned on. a pool of sunlight illuminated swarming mayflies above a bed of emerald moss. tomorrow thousands of their corpses would stud the ground like collapsed stars.
some time during the night when colors of indigo cloaked the world and the bare bones of the moon showed through a veil of clouds, sobeille's eyes had opened.
at first there was nothing but murkiness. like opening one's eyes underwater, gradually the picture became clearer.
sobeille faced the den entrance, mesmerized by a golden beam of sunlight that swam in her vision like the mirage of a ancient brass city.
"So long, farewell, auf Wiedersehen, good night!"
it is a song that carries the clementine butterfly from the meadow and towards the roaring coast. and she has never seen such beauty within her eyes. the wind has never tasted so salty before, and the breeze has never swept her up so effortlessly before. was this what all the land-dwelling animals and the ocean swimmers got to see and experience every day by the sand?
"I hate to go and leave this pretty sight!"
truly the meadow was wonderful, along with the lady shadow that she had encountered and swapped lyrics with. but a butterfly was not given wings to remain stagnant, they were designed for freedom and spontaneity. and thus, here she was on her next great adventure.
and upon the rock and sand and evergrowing light, Pancakes finds another face to see. and curiosity brings the butterfly closer to Miette, fluttering about her ears as a trill-like giggle comes to leave her. what joy it was to see youth!
"hey! what's your name?" she comes to ask, thinking of it as being such a silly song lyric she heard once.
within the shimmering pool of light a shadow darkened. sobeille’s reaction was slow and unsure: she blinked once or twice as she slouched there in the den.
a butterfly, its marmalade wings on molten fire in the beam; each black spot a vision, eyes of another world sobeille could not yet see.
and a voice she could not yet hear! sobeille’s tiny ears had yet to set, but the felt the breath of each shimmering wing with a flicker. she made a clumsy bid for the fluttering thing which awoke in her a hungry imperative — but rather than snatch the thing from the air, she fell to the dirt with a muffled oomph.
clear and lucky steering of her wings brings Pancakes near and yet far from the jaws of a curious being; and for a moment the butterfly must hover to attempt to make sense of what happened. but alas, butterflies were not known for their thinking caps.
so rather than avoid the danger, she instead comes to swoop and flutters in front of her working eyes yet again, as if to encourage her to get up. thankfully, butterflies did not know curse words on their own and often did not even think to try and use them in such a hateful manner.
they did not live as long as these land-walkers, and perhaps that was for the best. they had no reason to spend countless nights pondering such fancies of pain or lust, pride or love, or perhaps loneliness. no, the winged species were meant to fly, to live, and then to die.
and through it all, their songs persist beyond them.
"hey pretty baby, with the sun in your eyes"
(quite a literal lyric there, eh Pancakes?)
"you make me feel like I'm up in the sky!"
(perhaps being almost eaten makes you feel that way...)
and for a moment, Pancakes can be seen bringing her legs in before pushing them out, sending a microscopic kiss in the direction of the precious little girl. butterflies were always meant to love, after all.
a blade of shadow darted through the molten pool of light. scuffed by the earth, sobeille slowly rose with her eyes transfixed on the quivering shape above.
it moved! it darted! sobeille’s milky blue eyes widened in surprise as the shimmering orange wings came tantalizingly close. the butterfly’s legs furled close to her body in a singsong kiss.
sobeille’s little mouth parted in a round ‘o’, followed by a loud squeal of delight. her small fists drummed the earth as a baby grin brightened her dark face.
laughter was such a blessed noise in the ears of a butterfly! it shimmers like light on cascading raindrops, it strengthens the heart like a strong and earthy meal, and it lights the day as do pink clouds that birds so lovingly avoid breaking.
and Pancakes, well she wanted to hear this laughter again! and so she comes to glide closer to the little precious pearl, unaware that her tiny little ears are preventing her from hearing such wonderous tunes. but perhaps with those gentle eyes, the girl would make sense only through what she saw!
so an aerial show is what Pancakes did. backflips and front flips, flying high before closing her wings as a peregrine falcon comes to dive. and just before her hollow body could come to crash––! her wings sprout and catch her, and all through the heart that pounds, Pancakes sings breathlessly.
"How do I love thee? Let me count the ways!"
(Butterflies learn to love everyone, even those who may be their very end)
"Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light!"
(Did anyone else play Wii fit and see the butterfly burn in the candle while meditating?)
"I love thee freely, as men strive for right!"
(And funny enough, little Pancakes, there were no striving men in these parts!)
how agile! miette’s cloud-blue eyes widened as the butterfly performed fantastic aerial tricks. first she went up! then her wings folded in the deft manner of an accipitrine predator; bobbing and weaving through the air as if every molecule was hers to command.
miette was so transfixed she nearly fell again; this time backwards. regaining her footing, miette cooed before a second peal of laughter sounded through the den.
how befitting the first thing she focused upon would be a bug! it was only a shame she could not hear the heartfelt song.
oh, there it is again! and now Pancakes must greedily toss in her own laugh of pure joy. it is perhaps a mystery to some why children hold such little things to higher regard, but to the butterfly it is very clear -- kids just have better taste than adults.
kids grow into adults, and most lost their imagination when this day comes. and so Pancakes comes to pray in her own little way for this talent to never be lost in Miette. a butterfly could never say her thoughts out-loud as this, or else it would come off as an off-key diddy! oh, but on the inside, there is always a storm of thoughts edging out from her own wings.
and for just a verse or so, Pancakes singing becomes soft as she flutters by Miette's ears before attempting a landing.
"You'll be on my mind until we part
These pictures of dogs will mend my heart"
(Pancakes wished for many things this day)
towards the entrance, she finds a tiny enough ledge to stick her on the wall of the den. it is perhaps high enough that a puppy would need some serious coordination to be able to reach without falling over. and for a moment, the marmalade butterfly rests her wings in an open-close stretch as she breathes in the sweet scent of milk and mother's love that emanates from her friend below.
utterly fascinated by the fluttering thing, sobeille stilled. it was good then she lacked coordination, for she was at a stage of her infancy where she would not register the horror of shoving something so beautiful and sentient in her mouth.
her instinct stayed her then, suggesting only a whispering watchfulness. a giggle broke from her little mouth again as she watched the creature bound away, alighting on a thin twig above her reach. the butterfly’s wings fanned in slow open-close moments, and for the briefest second a slant of sunlight pierced her wings and sets the whole den aglow in soft amber.
a breath, drumming little heart in her chest as she looks over a display of youth that she will never gain back. caterpillar life was a pretty boring stage in Pancakes, if she had to be honest. just eating and crawling didn't sound like a life to live (but if you asked H2O, she'd totally become a bug just to do that all day every day.)
a whisper at first, but Pancakes thinks of this child as almost being deaf considering she's heard no responses. have you heard a butterfly shout? it's probably the saddest attempt at being loud, but it's always worth a try in her head, though her shout is probably no louder than someone stepping on a relatively crunchy leaf.
"ARE YOU READY?"
(I promise this is not going where you may be thinking)
"READY FOR THIS LIFE?"
shouting probably was draining her of energy more than flying around, and so Pancakes has to regroup for a moment as she watches the child below become layered in amber and golden light. she has never felt the need to be seen, nor for her work to be appreciated. and while it is such shame to know that this little girl would not know of the delicacies Pancakes is singing to her, perhaps she may come to visit again when her ears are open and ready to listen.
so she leaves her perch, sparing her singing/shouting voice as she comes to little Miette as close as her safety allows.
"be sweet to me," she begs to her, "I wanna believe."
(believing a puppy to have restraint? such high hopes for her, Pancakes...)
believe in her, believe in Pancakes own self.
mesmerized by the incandescent gold cast from pancakes wings, miette sighed. she was too young to hear the beauty of a shouting butterfly voice, but she trilled to herself in delight as vibrations from the butterfly’s efforts reached her.
pancakes came closer. a bold move perhaps, for a creature the size of Miette’s greedy eyeball, which now trained hungrily on the airborne thing. she was too young yet to know that the consumption of things came at the cost of life, and was often permanent — so as pancakes came alluringly close, she lunged for one sparklingly, impossibly orange wing.
some light assumptions beind made, can always correct if too much! i absolutely adore miette <333
if there is one thing to know, it's that butterflies rarely ever learn their lesson. and when Pancakes feels the all-too-close breath and snap of teeth in the air, she must desperately attempt to break away! and while Pancakes touts herself as being a well-skilled flier, the next move she has is perhaps downright stupid and risky!
in an attempt to overcorrect, the butterfly finds herself unbalanced as she narrowly escapes the sharp puppy jaws! and with fear that she might not get away, Pancakes must do something that all the butterflies fear,
the death flight!
while any onlooker would just find Pancakes' navigation to be subpar, the little butterfly curls her wings in and attempts to torpedo past the child's face and attempt to open up her wings at the last second to catch herself and fly beneath the belly of the beast!
and while there is some smooth sailing, Pancakes gets uncoordinated once again when she feels the force of a puppy tail force herself into a nasty spin!
"it's a quick turn!" she tells herself, attempting to regain her coordination and level out before she turns into den mural art! and through a last bit of effort, and use of her tiny legs, Pancakes saves herself from being smooshed and pushes off the wall and back into the air. and she climbs, climbs higher and higher so she's away from the munchy girl and comes to look down, hoping that her lack of death did not upset her!
[omg] omg dat butterskill <33 i also adore pancakes im sorry miette is trying to eat her LOL [/ooc]
it wasn’t that miette was trying to kill — she was far too young to understand the permanence. her instincts simply told her if it moved, it belonged in her mouth — if she enjoyed it alive, she’d enjoy it more in her stomach.
the butterfly’s wings flurried in a sudden dive! miette’s eyes widened as pancakes plunged, feeling a stir of air by her belly as the golden creature flew past.
she ponderously bent over, peering between her stilted limbs. the butterfly flit past and miette found herself tumbling head over teakettle as she tried to look under herself.
there propped on the floor, Miette became aware of the stirring of her tail and redirected her little teeth towards its flapping while pancakes safely fluttered out of reach.
with the bug out of reach, Miette’s interest fizzled. it wasn’t long before she tottered back to her nest of siblings and sprawled out on top of them, one hind toe poking from the mess as small snores rose in the peaceful den.