there's no telling | esther

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  • [ ESTHER S. im sorry this is so so so late, i got backed up on notifs aah! ]

    Trashboat didn't know why he was out here. His anxiety and agitation must've led him here when he wasn't paying attention. Even so, it was beautiful, and he was taking a moment to enjoy the fresh air. He wasn't feeling claustrophobic at home, however, the current feeling of being free was tickling his fancy. The large lupurca laid himself down, eyes drooping slightly as sleep tempted him. He would fight to stay awake, however, as this was still unknown lands and he didn't want to risk anything.

    who am i

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  • Esther wasn't so sure of herself, nowadays.

    When she was a fledgling, she remembered how absurdly confident she was in her own skin and bones, untouchable among the loyal-yet-unloyal mutts she was born beside. Even when she'd so foolishly snuck away into the night, she was still that bold young woman with a quick wit and talons trained into thieves' tools. And then the calamity came, and months passed by. The Marauders were no more.

    She never really wondered who had survived of the lot. She only had her suspicions. Ammon was always a stubborn arsehole (quite like his daughter), a man she'd always seen as an immovable object in the face of peril. Lately she'd rather compare him to a particularly large cockroach. Not even the apocalypse could shake him for long. And he was as unpredictable as one, too, what with that scuttling invitation he'd oh-so subtly set out for their remaining kin. He was always fit to be a leader - considering he'd been the second in command, once upon a time - but to build such an empire from the ground up? Surely, Mordre's remains writhed in his shallow grave.

    Esther wasn't sure of herself. Of her decisions. Maybe she was just sentimental, or as optimistic as an estranged daughter could be, but she had stood before her father. She'd stayed long enough to discuss terms and agreements, then she fled like the cowardly scavenger she so likened to. With no destination in mind, she took to the sky and let the breeze carry her to the darkened horizon, til the sun rose behind her and a cacophony of parrots sung deafening songs to hidden ears.

    A grandiose wingspan brought her between a break in the heavy treeline, tucked into a dive momentarily so as to fit herself entirely into the shaded jungles within. A few feathers were, inevitably, snagged on a few branched on the decline, rattling creaky old trees as Esther tugged herself free from the earth's snare. She cast aside the notion of keeping quiet at that point, finding a clear perch upon the ground with a heavy thud and subsequently bowling down a few errant bushes from the gust of wind that escaped the last beat of her wings as she met the dirt. Well, perhaps they were only mostly bushes, she noted as she reacted appropriately with a startled, half-heartedly aggressive, rattling sort of screech. Last time she checked, bushes didn't come furred in solid white.



  • Trashboat had been almost asleep, his limbs fading away from him and his mind attempting to cast away. He felt nothing, saw nothing. The only thing left was to listen to the sounds of nature and drift away, into serenity and sleep. The quiet bird chirps, however, shifted into startled squawks, the sounds of large winds slapping into tree branches and rattling the leaves. He stirred himself, eyes peaking up into the air, narrowed and somewhat crusted with the sleep that almost had him.

    They widened further when he saw the blur of talons and feathers and grunted when he found it was much to late to scurry away from the falling creature. He moved quickly thereafter, stumbling away from griffin and huffing his breath, having been caught off guard, just as he hoped he wouldn't be. She seemed stunned for a moment there, giving him only second to prepare himself. He had only met, what, one? Two griffins before? Both seemed sentient, and both were hellbent on murdering creatures and keeping them as prizes, however Bo believed that his first encountered griffin just didn't understand how life worked.

    "Not too graceful, huh?" he asked, bewilderment showing on his face. He hoped for her to be sentient and, if so, some sort of calm and collected. He couldn't take a fight in this stage of barely awake, anyways.

    who am i

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