[i'm doing two toplevels you can't stop me i'm a free unrestrainable beast tag either or both live your best life. if this occurred to me earlier i would have done just one with options but this is the life we're living leave me alONE
but. but. she doesn't notice right away; she's so distracted by the air in her lungs and the sight of her friends, but—she's whole again. There's a warmth in her chest and a weight dangling from around her neck, and once she's split away from hellos and welcome backs for more than a few seconds at a time, her hand comes to clutch her dragonstone.
And—there's already one dragon here and he barely fits, so she finds her way to a window now that the corruption's banished and it's safe to open.
It takes her a couple of tries to hoist herself up into the windowsill. By the time anyone might notice there is a tiny child actively like crawling out of an open window on the second goddamn story, she's laughing. Tiki pushes herself out of the window and out of the room.
Her dragonstone shines golden light, and it engulfs her; she's a glow in the shape of a girl and that shape shifts and morphs and when it fades, not even halfway down, there's a beast in her place.
More than once, she described her size in her dragon form as about two or three times the size of a wyvern, which was absolutely useless. Like this, her head's about the size as anyone else's body; her wings, crisp white feathers over tough membrane, almost angelic, spread wide and flap once, twice, stirring the courtyard below. She lands hard on her two hind feet, gives a low grumble in the back of her throat, almost annoyed. Another try, then, as she comes down to all fours. When she shakes her head, feathered scruff around her neck and down her back ruffle, and when she pushes against the ground, she flaps her wings hard and takes to the sky again.
This time she goes up, spiraling through the clouds. As she goes higher, she stumbles this way and that in flight; she doesn't practice flying much, but she wants the chance to feel her wings again, to stretch and move and feel whole. There's plenty of time for anyone to make their way to the courtyard if they want to see her land.
And when she does—that same light surrounds her as she descends, and this time the glow becomes smaller and smaller, slowly, until a few feet above the ground there's a little girl with wide feathered wings on her back opening them wide to ensure that she lands safely, one foot, then the other, then the wings disappear with a burst of sparkling white and a swirl of a few stray feathers and Tiki collapses backwards into the grass, hands over her mouth as she laughs and laughs.]
pre-goodbyes post-revival
but. but. she doesn't notice right away; she's so distracted by the air in her lungs and the sight of her friends, but—she's whole again. There's a warmth in her chest and a weight dangling from around her neck, and once she's split away from hellos and welcome backs for more than a few seconds at a time, her hand comes to clutch her dragonstone.
And—there's already one dragon here and he barely fits, so she finds her way to a window now that the corruption's banished and it's safe to open.
It takes her a couple of tries to hoist herself up into the windowsill. By the time anyone might notice there is a tiny child actively like crawling out of an open window on the second goddamn story, she's laughing. Tiki pushes herself out of the window and out of the room.
Her dragonstone shines golden light, and it engulfs her; she's a glow in the shape of a girl and that shape shifts and morphs and when it fades, not even halfway down, there's a beast in her place.
More than once, she described her size in her dragon form as about two or three times the size of a wyvern, which was absolutely useless. Like this, her head's about the size as anyone else's body; her wings, crisp white feathers over tough membrane, almost angelic, spread wide and flap once, twice, stirring the courtyard below. She lands hard on her two hind feet, gives a low grumble in the back of her throat, almost annoyed. Another try, then, as she comes down to all fours. When she shakes her head, feathered scruff around her neck and down her back ruffle, and when she pushes against the ground, she flaps her wings hard and takes to the sky again.
This time she goes up, spiraling through the clouds. As she goes higher, she stumbles this way and that in flight; she doesn't practice flying much, but she wants the chance to feel her wings again, to stretch and move and feel whole. There's plenty of time for anyone to make their way to the courtyard if they want to see her land.
And when she does—that same light surrounds her as she descends, and this time the glow becomes smaller and smaller, slowly, until a few feet above the ground there's a little girl with wide feathered wings on her back opening them wide to ensure that she lands safely, one foot, then the other, then the wings disappear with a burst of sparkling white and a swirl of a few stray feathers and Tiki collapses backwards into the grass, hands over her mouth as she laughs and laughs.]