Overture Downs your mother's throat clicks and my spirit swims right to the hook
ᴀ ᴠᴀʟʟᴜᴍ ᴏғ ғᴀɪʀʏ ᴛᴀʟᴇs
sᴍᴀsʜᴇᴅ ɪɴᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴀʟɪᴛʏ
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Ooc — lyra
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she reposed two body lengths from the small distressed thing, the feminal breadth of herself flush with the earth. it was a bird; a female killdeer feigning injury; a diminutive creature with a lion’s heart going great lengths to lure this young wolf away, away, ach—! to go in peace from the riverwalk stones among which she disguised her eggs some days ago. 

it held its wing awry, as if crippled. hobbling and tottering and impressing shrill trilling sounds upon her family's would-be annihilator, to only middling effect. 

the girl drew back and fidgeted her ears, panting, quasifrustrated. in her heart was sympathy for the counterfeiting sufferer, but also there was the overwhelm of curiosity, and a yearning to gratify it by giving chase. 

as a defense against predation the bird’s act was compelling. however, that did not make it quite so utilitarian when challenged with the maddeningly impulsive whims of youth. 


a whine whistled in the air between them as the intrepid and proud little plover refused to be dispelled from her nesting area, and the wolf refused to be dispelled from hers.
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your mother's throat clicks and my spirit swims right to the hook - by Phaedra - June 20, 2021, 09:10 PM