The first few weeks must have been slow. I don't remember them, only brief, fleetin' feelings of warmth an' darkness. It could be described as "simplicity".
On her fourteenth day of life, Elosie opened her eyes. It was customary for wolf pups to have a bluebell shade to their iris, and yet, hers were a startling white. She blinked, as everything around her slowly came into focus, like a camera lens being adjusted until it was perfectly clear.
Elosie's attention went to a downy, pale feather gradually spiraling down from the sky. It came low, until a gust of wind picked it up, and it was carried away. Huh.
When folks say eyes are a window to one's soul, they ain't lying.
As of now, my life is quite irregular, even more so than usual. I may post frequently for a few days, then go slow for weeks. I'll try my best to reply within two weeks. Some threads, such as ones with many participants, may take priority over others. Thank you for understanding!
May 06, 2024, 01:30 PM
Something glittered in the darkness, opalescent and bright. With fondness that grew with each dawn, Chacal looked down to see the pale eyes of her daughter- concerned for a moment by their hue.
Still- for her girl, she gave only a smile and hid all worry from her face. Her pupils looked clear enough, and when her gaze was drawn by the falling of a pale feather, she sighed with relief.
Her daughter was not blind- but her eyes would make her truly unique, she thought. Uniqueness meant beauty, something the proud mother knew grew in abundance in Sapphique.
She rose and walked out into the daylight, leaping with a soft grunt to catch the feather by its quick and bring it back to the den. She grasped the feather and held it aloft- before sending it spiralling once more with a puff of warm breath so it might float down once more for her daughter’s amusement.
Still- for her girl, she gave only a smile and hid all worry from her face. Her pupils looked clear enough, and when her gaze was drawn by the falling of a pale feather, she sighed with relief.
Her daughter was not blind- but her eyes would make her truly unique, she thought. Uniqueness meant beauty, something the proud mother knew grew in abundance in Sapphique.
She rose and walked out into the daylight, leaping with a soft grunt to catch the feather by its quick and bring it back to the den. She grasped the feather and held it aloft- before sending it spiralling once more with a puff of warm breath so it might float down once more for her daughter’s amusement.
It can be assumed that if Chacal is speaking, she will be singing. Her speaking patterns will always have a melodic quality to them.
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