Jan 11 2021, 08:04 PM
By all rights, life should have been good. Aethereal had a home, a family who loved her and taught her to sing and dance and do anything she might ever need, and a Mother who cared for her and watched over them all. But for some inexplicable, mildly infuriating reason, she just felt bad and Aethereal was so tired of it.
Tired, as in both metaphorically and literally. Last night, for example, she'd gotten, what, maybe one or two hours of actual good sleep in total? Whatever the numbers were, they weren't good. She had been plagued with nightmarish visions (if you could call them that, when she hadn't really seen anything) of chaos and violent creatures even more monstrous than herself, tearing each other apart in their savagery. There had been lots of screaming, and the wind in her dreams howled as though the air itself was in pain. As if that wasn't enough, Aethereal had woken multiple times to a crushing grip on her shoulder, or leg, or wing, as if the monsters in her dreams had somehow manifested themselves to attack her in real life. And recently, she'd found herself dripping an odd liquid from the opening in her neck. It wasn't blood, because it didn't hurt - at least Aethereal thought it wasn't blood - but what other explanation was there? Drooling in her sleep? Drooling even when she was awake? She liked to think she was better than that.
By now, she had more or less figured out that whatever was hurting her didn't really exist, so to speak. She was safe inside the ice tunnels; her siblings would doubtless stop any enemy before it could ambush her. And of course it couldn't be one of them, because they were her family and they loved her. Also, she'd tried to grab or tackle the thing-that-did-harm several times, but there had been nothing to fight but thin air. Or thick air. Crushing air. She was maybe 80% sure that was what it was.
Still, it was infuriating, not being able to fight the thing that was hurting her. Some fresh air might help, though. Aethereal liked flying. Most of the time. When the wind wasn't blowing droplets of oil back onto her fur. Maybe it was time to land, anyway. With a long sigh, Aethereal landed on the mountainside, sending pebbles skittering down the slope. Maybe she shouldseek chaos and inflict it on everything around her go hunting or something.
@V-Chaos-Two
Tired, as in both metaphorically and literally. Last night, for example, she'd gotten, what, maybe one or two hours of actual good sleep in total? Whatever the numbers were, they weren't good. She had been plagued with nightmarish visions (if you could call them that, when she hadn't really seen anything) of chaos and violent creatures even more monstrous than herself, tearing each other apart in their savagery. There had been lots of screaming, and the wind in her dreams howled as though the air itself was in pain. As if that wasn't enough, Aethereal had woken multiple times to a crushing grip on her shoulder, or leg, or wing, as if the monsters in her dreams had somehow manifested themselves to attack her in real life. And recently, she'd found herself dripping an odd liquid from the opening in her neck. It wasn't blood, because it didn't hurt - at least Aethereal thought it wasn't blood - but what other explanation was there? Drooling in her sleep? Drooling even when she was awake? She liked to think she was better than that.
By now, she had more or less figured out that whatever was hurting her didn't really exist, so to speak. She was safe inside the ice tunnels; her siblings would doubtless stop any enemy before it could ambush her. And of course it couldn't be one of them, because they were her family and they loved her. Also, she'd tried to grab or tackle the thing-that-did-harm several times, but there had been nothing to fight but thin air. Or thick air. Crushing air. She was maybe 80% sure that was what it was.
Still, it was infuriating, not being able to fight the thing that was hurting her. Some fresh air might help, though. Aethereal liked flying. Most of the time. When the wind wasn't blowing droplets of oil back onto her fur. Maybe it was time to land, anyway. With a long sigh, Aethereal landed on the mountainside, sending pebbles skittering down the slope. Maybe she should
@V-Chaos-Two