Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-31049256-20170919032125/@comment-28358106-20171014014315

(Interlude)  High above, Tirush grins at the sight of the struggling Penelope and mentally files the image away to ask her about it later. She would otherwise land and give her some help, but the sun was now below the horizon, and the surrounding forest was rapidly soaking up the last of the twilight. She wanted to get to her family and share a meal with them.

It was the one thing she loved more than anything else, the singular puppet string of her soul, the constant beat in her heart. The Mirraad, the primordial voice ever present,  wove itself around the deep solace that was her love for her family. The thought of s itting at the table, surrounded by her daughters, wives, and beloved husband, watching them eat and talk and laugh. For that, she would do anything. A treasure, hard won and long in coming, and at last it was hers.

She wonders for a moment if the ten cold years before them was a dark, ashen dream, so difficult is it to imagine life without them. Partha was and is the one bright ember that she had cherished and guarded so fiercely, but now, she was adrift in a sea of these embers, each brighter than a star, so many were her joys.

A family. She was going to eat dinner with her big, beautiful family!

She smiles to herself. She ducks sharply as she glides, then pumps her wings and uses her diving momentum to shoot herself higher, tucking in her wings, slowly spinning in a backwards somersault, her glittering scales visible even in the fading light. For several seconds she is a lazily arcing meteor across the sky. Then, she falls again, and her wings burst open, catching her in her dive and shooting her forward impossibly fast.

She rockets past the people below, still far above them, turning in a wide circle. Her heart swells with sheer joy and she draws a deep breath, opening her mouth and spitting a sky-shattering cry, a dominance challenge, briefly painting the clouds above as if the sun had risen again.

It isn't a cry of anger, or fury. But it is a statement. It says,  ''I am here. This is mine, and none will take it from me. ''

She circles once more, then calls again. She turns, and leaves.

She weaves her way towards the mansion, following the scents in the air, the arousing sweat of her dominant wife, the sweet call of her husband's breath. She sees the lights in the windows, then circles the building, dipping and then dropping onto the green grass of the lawn, her heavy body landing lightly as her wings ease her down. She shake herself, fluffing out her fur, then draws in her wings, quickly combing her wild hair with a taloned hand and tugging her fur bikini up, jostling her breasts.

Her tail swishing, she stalks to the front door, pauses, then lets herself inside.