Post by Lyre Hastings on Feb 4, 2015 23:17:00 GMT -5
She was the little deer girl who slept in the trees. Dappled sunlight had managed to make its way through branches that were heavy with leaves, producing a fairytale-like effect that made the air seem to glimmer as if viewed in a heat-haze. It was still early, early enough, in the day that the sunlight was still bright and yellow and shining. As it got later that light tended to fade and tarnish like it was getting tired too, by the time evening finally started to roll around it was usually nothing but murk that slinked in the background. Swallowed up by all the dark things in the world so night could have its time. Whatever the case, it was still early afternoon, students probably just being released for lunch, and Lyre was still asleep.
She was nestled up off of the ground in the hollow of a tree, panting her breaths short and quick like an animal in sleep. She was curled up like a fawn, leaves and flowers either tangled or grown into her hair, things like pink peonies resting between her small antlers. Her hollow faced into the sun rather than away, the syrupy warmth feeding her drowsiness and making nap time, instead of class time, imperative. It wasn't as if she would be missed, anyways. Though she wasn't classically shy in the traditional sense of the word, she was quiet. She rarely talked, instead communicating in a myriad of facial expressions and gestures. When she did speak she tended to keep her answers short with as little words as she could manage. Because of this, her teachers had quickly learned not to call on her. Even if she raised her hand, which was something she didn't do.
She was new enough to still be considered new, but that newness had worn off once the students who were interested enough had asked their questions and were met most often than not with a blink and a nibble on a leaf or two. She had gone from new and exciting to new and boring; the first shiny and eye-catching and the second a little more tarnished and able to be looked over more easily. Lyre was neutral to the whole thing; she was fine with being alone. She was used to this. She was curious about people, of course, but she didn't need them. She wouldn't mind having friends, but most would mind, having her a one, since she was so quiet. People didn't like the quiet ones. Even other quiet ones gave each other a wide berth.
But she had her forest. With its trees, and plants, and flowers and its greenness. Lyre loved green things. She had never been anywhere so green and so...so open. She may be penned in on this island like a common parakeet in a cage, millions and millions of gallons of water separating her from what she had heard called "the mainland," but the sky! She had never seen so much of it, and all at once.
The other students might hate it and detest it, but in the forest the little deer girl slumbered on, content.
She was nestled up off of the ground in the hollow of a tree, panting her breaths short and quick like an animal in sleep. She was curled up like a fawn, leaves and flowers either tangled or grown into her hair, things like pink peonies resting between her small antlers. Her hollow faced into the sun rather than away, the syrupy warmth feeding her drowsiness and making nap time, instead of class time, imperative. It wasn't as if she would be missed, anyways. Though she wasn't classically shy in the traditional sense of the word, she was quiet. She rarely talked, instead communicating in a myriad of facial expressions and gestures. When she did speak she tended to keep her answers short with as little words as she could manage. Because of this, her teachers had quickly learned not to call on her. Even if she raised her hand, which was something she didn't do.
She was new enough to still be considered new, but that newness had worn off once the students who were interested enough had asked their questions and were met most often than not with a blink and a nibble on a leaf or two. She had gone from new and exciting to new and boring; the first shiny and eye-catching and the second a little more tarnished and able to be looked over more easily. Lyre was neutral to the whole thing; she was fine with being alone. She was used to this. She was curious about people, of course, but she didn't need them. She wouldn't mind having friends, but most would mind, having her a one, since she was so quiet. People didn't like the quiet ones. Even other quiet ones gave each other a wide berth.
But she had her forest. With its trees, and plants, and flowers and its greenness. Lyre loved green things. She had never been anywhere so green and so...so open. She may be penned in on this island like a common parakeet in a cage, millions and millions of gallons of water separating her from what she had heard called "the mainland," but the sky! She had never seen so much of it, and all at once.
The other students might hate it and detest it, but in the forest the little deer girl slumbered on, content.
