Is she ready to be yelled at? Yup. Ready for any physical out lashes? Absolutely. A very strange fear had overcome her, considering she had been gone for...quite a while. Perhaps she was afraid they had forgotten her. Doubtful, but still very possible. What can she expect when she arrives at the burrow? She's not particularly sure, which could very well be why she's been sitting on a hillside a bit away and just watching. Or waiting. Maybe she was waiting, for what, she had no idea.
Lechuza. | the passing days have been long & barren . Otherwise known as :: I require a crystal explanation behind your silent, month-long hiatus. GOLDEN CHANNELS. Coursing to the distant mountain range, which sank to a lower place from the lifting sun. A gentle rising & falling, hardly rushed in the dead of oncoming daybreak. Blanketed—illuminated by the fading light that the ashen moon soundlessly offered in its figure, much like its effulgent counterpart oft-times would. Reflecting a faint gleam, it did, as the waning orbit hung low from its place among the weakly shimmering stars. A remnant of unequaled brilliancy, not akin to many with the accompanying lunar phases. The clouds bore a promise of tranquility to the rising light source all life depended upon, scattering far and seemingly long o'er the pale sky beyond the crowning, desert horizon. A sea of darkness would agree to its promised betters, the bleary overcast settling for the incontestable tomorrows. For the time it was given, the pallid looker would whisper, but a farewell as it fell. A persistent manner, almost; as though it hadn’t the want of leaving the drifting currents behind. Alas, it came to the heavens littering the blinking stars or so, as it was another’s time to fan out their purpose. A bare, incessant mesmorization linked to reality ; unrealistic, yet truthfully, there was a slight contradiction playing at hand.‘ MOONLIGHT shadows the desert land As the cold and the darkness begin to seep in. Though while the grainy sands rise and the waters flow, And my aching heart pounds like the desert winds, I know I will see myself back home again. ’ One is dimly reminded of the droning of the desert’s distinctive, tapering songs, companied by the vibrant dawning outside the solid terra boundaries. An unremitting hum unwilling to sound forth as it lingered in his ears. That muted sound, which he was almost for certain had not been troubling him a few hours before he’d led to circumstantially dozing away. Dei, let alone having even been there to start out with. Stubby fingers curl around & sway by his helm, the brief touch itself, prompting him to pry open a glossy optic. These hands, little hands, apparently the babe’s — patting around the speckled plumes there. He could feel a weight nestling further into his disheveled neckline, almost confirming his clouded thoughts. Though, whilst supporting an area of his uncertainty, he was given to wonder if that had been the actual thing behind his awakening. A rising doubt, hence to speak. Him, not precisely wanting to bother with flickering his gaze upwards over its content position, but his peculiar curiosity overcoming the presence of nagging fatigue. The sounds of the children's murmuring talk & static buzzing, bringing down to hushed background noise, his gaze eventually meeting a lingering form far out of a clear range. The physique was uncannily familiar, albeit his vision blurred to the point of minuscule recognition of shapes. It was not to say, however, that few could bear a likeliness that he could undoubtedly recall. “ ¿Angelito? ” A subdued huff left his vocals at the sight, brows quirking while he slowly shifted from the desert ground—thin, flimsy grass patches coiling at the short-lived motion. Optics served a dull reflection, partly half-lidded in his slim alertness for the still moment; pupils dark & the irises burning an ill-lighted amber tone. Truthfully, as much as he would hate to dare accept the fact, it was his best attempt at not falling unconscious once more. Bringing himself forward, a wing assuring that the youngster stayed firm in his grip, he soundlessly crept onwards to where he had spotted who seemed to be the femme. Much of a long travel for his preference, though he would remain persistent as the outspread hills came into view. Clicking the tip of his glossa over the roof of his maw, the elder produced a rumble, ridges perching even higher than before. Not a soul had the fortune of seeing her for a period that felt like everlasting months ; an overly probable assumption, he would believe. Whilst he was not the least bit enraged by her sudden appearance ( calm and mellow to a relativity, the Sire is ), his blooming concerns now flourished only slightly. Yet, who hadn't the decency to tell someone of their whereabouts, most especially to those whom held them near & dear to their hearts? “ Dei, have a sense of mercy. Little one, what might you be doing over there? ¿No es demasiado tarde para la itinerancia en este momento de la madrugada? ” It was an ungodly time to be doing such a thing, more like. He, himself, admitted his own breaching points; being sure to rest before seven antemeridian was the elder’s begrudging “lay away”. In regards to any knowledge that he might have retained outside from under the sleeping skies, there stood to be little to no explanation. Candidly, no reason for someone in their right mind to trudge themselves along with steps in their journey to go before they could possibly ease themselves. Then, only then, keep absolutely still in a strike of dread. Or persistently try to do so, rather. . . Bewilderment aside -- heavens, did he have questions in store for a special someone.
