These Small Hours [Najwa/Gigibby]

People bore a tendency to observe the colours of a day purely at their beginnings and at their ends, though to her, a day merged through a multitude of shades and intonations, with each passing moment; a single hour held the capability to consist of thousands of different colours; tourmaline blacks, russet browns, verdant greens, cardinal reds, aurulent yellows, cerulean blues, heliotrope purples, unblemished whites. Colours. Would the world yellow or blue on this day? Perhaps white, one of her favourites. White was not a mere absence of colour; it was a shining and affirmative thing, as fierce as red, as distinct as black. A dark voice churning through the back of her mind offered no colour at all as an alternative, yet she smothered that voice. The days of no colour were simply too hard to bear. She needed colour today, for somehow, a sumptuous planet, sparkling with joy, bountiful with life, failed to dismiss her perpetually resurfacing thoughts of Roiss. Colour distracted her mind, drew distance from her memories, and as such, she required it to keep functioning. Lest, any motivation was motivation enough to withdraw herself from her mind and focus upon the vibrant nature of the world in all its glory. As such, each and every tone was ever so carefully chosen, gradiented blends of colouration sweeping across her lithe frame, violet, orchid, mulberry and mauve adorning the thick plumage, accented by the occasional white here and there. Mankind's pride may have lay around weaponry, power, and victory, though hers alone were her feathers. Not that she was the vain type, not in the slightest, though maintaining thick plumage kept her occupied for the most part, kept her from straying too far from the path, prevented her from indulging too far within human life, be that a good or bad thing.

The heat wasn't exactly unbearable, though the humid warmth shrouding the air was enough to cause the feminine to long for dusk, a time of which would bring cooler airs, and a spectacular array of colours across the sky; a grapy dusk, a purple dusk over tangerine groves and long melon fields; the sun the colour of pressed grapes, slashed with burgundy red, the fields the colour of love and Spanish mysteries, was truly a remarkable thing to witness, and she frequented the sight, observing the skies above fade from their glacier-toned beryl into cerise, sanguine, amethyst and plum. She savoured every moment of such a sight, often losing all negative thoughts at the vision, the fleeting glimpse of the heavens above enough to encourage her to endure another day, to keep longing to know the answers to all questions she bore, to strive for better life, to forget the past and move on... But... That meant forgetting Roiss; as much as she sought to deny it, she would likely never be able to lose the face of the man in her memory. She knew not a name for the intense affection she once harboured for him, no, that she still held for him alone, but knew enough to acknowledge the fact that it stretched beyond friendship. It stretched beyond something she'd every experienced before. And, whether or not she'd ever come to adore anyone the way she did him remained unknown. The world had faded after she'd forced him away, after she'd starved him off, after he'd broken the infinite trust she'd placed into him, until her life had become tenebrous, monotonous, opaque. And, after that, she'd sworn never to allow herself to fade in such a manner again, to burrow that far into sorrow, into gloom, into pure melancholia. Dismissing the thought with the faintest trace of a whine, the hybrid's stark yellow optics fluttered shut, savouring the blissful nature of the day, the heat bringing about drowsiness.

Lest, it just so happened that her peace would be disturbed by an irritating buzzing near one of her ears, prompting her audits to twitch, and finally pin against her skull, the noise causing her head to jerk upright, yellow eyes snapping open and wide. Sure enough, there was the familiar, plump yellow and black of a bee. The unexpectedly close proximity of the small insect enticed a panicked squeal from the hybrid, scrabbling at the bark, desperately trying to gain a foothold to get away from the seemingly feared insect. Daring not to swat at it, she instead embraced her natural instinct from anything that didn't involve curiosity; fleeing. And, it just so happened that as she barrelled from the recesses of the tree, she slammed straight into the inquisitive woman, shoving into her with an unintended sharp force. A sudden yelp of shock left the hybrid, her frame rocking backwards and onto the ground in a jumbled tangle of her own limbs, pelage and plumage. It was certainly official that she had no elegance. None at all.


WORDS 814
TAG @najwa
MUSE little wonders
DYED PLUMAGE REF x and x
NOTES omg nauji xD

The feelings that hurt most, the emotions that stung most, were that of which where completely absurd at best; the longing for impossible things, nostalgia for what never was, the desire for what could have been, regret over not being someone else, dissatisfaction with the world’s existence. To be hopeful in such negative times was not only considered foolishly romantic; it was based upon the notion that human history was a history not only consisting of cruelty, though also sporting traces of compassion, sacrifice, courage, kindness, of which only the fragility of mankind's hearts could produce. What one chose to emphasize in such complex history would determine one's life, and as such, should a being only sight the worst, it destroyed every ounce of capability within the mind and soul. Though should one remember the rare times and places in which people had behaved magnificently, it provided the energy to act, sprout at least the possibility of sending the spinning top of the world tottering in a different direction. And if one was to act, in however small a way as they might, nobody would be forced to wait for some grant utopian future; the future was an infinite succession of presents, and to live now as one thought human beings should live, in defiance of all that was bad around them, within itself was a marvellous victory. To love life, despite holding no stomach for it, whilst everything one held dear crumbled like burnt paper within their hands, and one's throat filled with the silt of it all; when grief sat upon a being, it's tropical heat thickening the air, heavier still than water, more fit for gills than lungs; when grief weighed upon a being like their own flesh, only more of it, a form of obesity of grief, and when the thought of 'how could a body could possibly withstand this' came about, was a wonderful thing. A truly wonderful spark within the eternal darkness considered of life. For whilst the world was indeed full of peril, and that within it there were many dark places, there was still much that was fair, and though in al lands love was hopelessly entangled with grief, it grew greater, more potent with every thorn of despondency that triggered within its recesses. If one was to walk with hope in their heart, they would never walk alone. Or at least, that was what she thought.

Part of the problem with the word disabilities was that it suggested an immediate inability to see, to hear, to walk, to operate in mannerisms taken so often for granted. But what of people who couldn't feel? Or talk about their feelings? Or manage their feelings in constructive ways? What of people who weren't able to form close and strong relationships? And people who couldn't find fulfilment in their lives, or those who had lost hope, who lived in disappointment and bitterness and found in life no joy, no love? Those, as it had occurred to her, were the real disabilities. Lest, the very least she could do within her life was to figure out what she hoped for, and the most she could do was to live within that hope. No, not to admire it from a distance, as a moth to a flame, desiring the light but petrified of the burn, but to live right within it, under it's roof; one couldn't swim for new horizons until one had the courage to lose sight of the shore. She had long since come to accepting the notion of bearing no slight clue of where she was headed, and yet, she'd trained herself to love it, for it was only when one was suspended in mid-air with no landing in sight that one could force their wings to unravel and alas begin their flight. As as such, within flight, one could still have no idea where one was heading. Though, the miracle within itself was the unfolding of the wings; as long as the wings were spread, the wings would carry any weight of despair clean from the terrain.

The feminine instinctively recoiled upon being submerged in contact with the undetected creature, hands pressing against the thick plumage and pelt she adorned drawing forth shock, feathered appendages sprawling open in some futile effort to catch her balance before impacting the terrain. Lest, uncalculated and distinctively clumsy in movements, she ended up a tangled mass of limbs and feathers, the wings having failed their attempt to draw order, ending up entwined with her slumped body, splayed outwards, trapped beneath her. Bleary amber irises reopened swiftly, stung faintly by the dusted dirt of the trail, dried by the blistering heat and raised by the sudden impact, blinking slowly in surprise, taking a good moment or two to register the potential threat of the living being's presence. And, during those few seconds, both creatures do no more than study one another, expression of fright promptly fading from canid-based features. The thinned, seemingly lithe woman before her appeared odd; rather unlike those she had the privilege of witnessing within the dark recesses of her forest-dwelling or the extremely occasional ventures into the concrete jungles of man's cities. The fur sat upon the woman's head was thickly curled, entwined with roseate tones that resembled cardinal; another thing of which she'd never bore witness to. Though, perhaps the most intriguing thing about this odd feminine was the fact that her facials were cloaked in strange... Speckles. Little brown patches cloaked the human's face, what one might consider blemishes on the visage, though in all truths, she liked them; more than anything about the unknown woman, upon first glance. Though, through her curiosity regarding the odd, miniscule brown markings that cloaked the woman's face, the hungry inquisitiveness within the depths of dark irises did not go unnoticed; she met them for a moment with her own yellow orbs, like lanterns against the mulberry and orchid tones laced across her pelt, head tipping slightly to one side so as to examine her quietly, nary a flicker of negative emotion reaching her facials, everything drowned out by the sudden need to know about this human. This woman.

Adjusting her posture slightly so as to observe the shifting woman, observing with wide, quizzical eyes, leaning her head to one side and cocking it. Lest, despite having previously impacted with the woman, there wasn't the slightest anger within her; she didn't appear to wield the capability to hold grudges. Hell, it'd be the eighth world  wonder for her to even raise her voice, even slightly. Even through the subtle changes in the human's posture, gradually raising back onto two limbs with a slowed gait, the hybrid still was entwined with the notion of uncovering the meaning behind those quaint little brown patches on the woman's face. Where did they come from? Why did this woman have them? Were they rare? Did the woman have an illness? Did they grow like fungus? Were humans sometimes born that way? Despite the possible danger that could be involved with a few of those thoughts, there wasn't the slightest fear within her heart. Only the desperate urge to satisfy her need for knowledge. Thus, the quietened hum and visible palms were more than enough for her to consider herself welcomed within the human's presence.

Frame scrabbling upright, talons gripping the dirt with a precision foreign to usage on living creatures without need, the being wasted no time in closing the distance between the two of them in a merry pace somewhere between a skipping trot and a gleeful bounce, her hind limbs bucking happily upwards once or twice in the manner that an equine might, circling round the woman, though not meaning the action, nor the sudden proximity, in any form of malicious way. Her frame held loosely, muscles far from tense, joyful expression plastered upon her facials just as it previously was the woman's. Thin limbs worked into the euphoric bounce, before coming to a halt rather abruptly behind the human, a sudden look of close scrutiny coming about the creature. Her frame dipped, before lifting her forebody into the air, supporting herself on her hindlegs. Paws, tipped with dull talons, settled against the woman's upper back and shoulders, hesitating briefly, before the lean muzzle lowered to the being's 'fur' atop it's head, shuffling inquisitively through the hair with her nose. A squealed coo of excitement left the hybrid, before her attention knotted instead to the bright bangles that the human adorned. And only one thought passed through her mind as such a point. Shiny. Another overexcited squeal slipped passed through her throat, and ever so casually morphing into her barebuck naked human form, still not having grasped the concept that to not be clothed was to be indecent, and began to fiddle with the golden object with her fingers, poking at it, and at the woman's ear, though being gentle as ever. "Nitidussss!" she chirped gleefully, equipped with a stretched cartoon of a smile plastered upon her face.



WORDS 1510
TAG @najwa
MUSE little wonders
DYED PLUMAGE REF x and x
NOTES sorry this took so long to get around to, hun; got caught up in dealing with paperwork.

TRANSLATION nitidus meaning shiny, glossy, bright.