Alright, i've been dying to upload something that isn't a chapter of "Innocent".. (sorry folks ^^') and i've had this idea in my head ever since i saw the episode "The Falcon and the Snowjob".
heads up! This story is in danger of a name change... if any of you can come up with a better title, i'd love to hear it. "What a bird wants" just came out of the blue, and honestly, it sounds a little corny xD
~ for all the people who are upset about my "tardiness" in uploading new chapters to "Innocent" i'm dreadfully sorry about that. I just can't seem to meet my deadlines, nor my goals. ;~; BUT i am hot on the next chapter.. and frankly, i'll probably (hopefully) get it done in the next week or two. It all depends on my workload, and mood.
~Lastly, i'd like to mention the fact that this was supposed to be a oneshot. That's my excuse for the short length of these chapters. Seriously, it just didn't sound right as just one chapter.
~ Please review, i love opinions and critique =3 Especially with this new style i'm trying out...
Skipper stood at the table with his cup of coffee, and staring at the wall. What a day. He stirred the sardine in circles as he leaned on one flipper.
Sighing, he turned his attention down towards his mug, and observed the small frothy ripples his stirring created. But his gaze was locked on a face he saw swirling beneath the black waves of coffee.
Kitka
His beak mouthed the name in one breathless movement.
Oh, Kitka.
She was the dames of all dames. The pinnacle of beauty.
He watched silently as an image rippled to life in front of him. The form was perfect, her majestic body in precise ratio to her delicate head, and her lavish extremity. She had the figure every female would die for. Slender hips, proud shoulders, and the perfect tail sweeping in the rest of her magnificence.
Her beauty was boundless, encased within a single body fringed with the most beautiful feathers he had ever laid eyes on. While his own were colorless like coal, hers were tinted with the stunning blush of daylight. Each individual feather seemed to be painted with the ruby sunrise and entwined with wisps of liquid gold.
She was breathtaking. Her frame glistened with pure sunlight. Her passionate radiance blinded him, making his eyes water and sting, but still he looked on.
She didn't have a single feather out of place. They were so organized, and flawless, as if the angels themselves had weaved them into her elegant body. Why, she was worthy of angels. The heavens resided as her play toys. She probably flew circles around the moon and rolled with lawless bliss in the sunrise.
His eyes trailed up the faultless figure, from her praiseworthy talons to her limitless wingspan.
Her wings could easily sheath the skies. They were massive, and well built. Her physique lay embossed beneath her feathers revealing her true strength, yet her wings remained fragile.
He remembered the sensation of feeling them wrapped around his body, his own body; the body of which he thought had been the perfect image of strength.
Yet there he had laid, cradled in her buoyant wings. He had felt a new kind of strength kindled within the weightlessness. Agility throbbed beneath her graceful plumes, as they brushed softly against his torso.
His feathers prickled and his body trembled at the memory.
Regaining his composure, the penguin's eyes continued to travel upwards until his livid blue irises zeroed in on her beak.
He caught his breath. Her beak was more than admirable, it was more than beauty. Her beak shimmered with a tantalizing brightness that could only belong to the sun itself. With a shape carefully carved out of luminosity, it presented a crescent of sunbeams. It was more valuable than gold. It was a bonfire, so intense, that it smothered his breath away. It burned at his soul, it devoured his being, and it ignited something deep within him.
A small shudder ran through his body.
Her beak was a gift from above, formed by the sky, and kissed by the sun. An inferno of perfection.
But although it burned with the flames of intensified suns, it felt surprisingly cool and abiding to the touch.
Her beak was firm. Hardened, and inflexible. Still, it flooded his own body with desire.
His tongue trailed over his beak with anticipation as he leaned towards the vision. He craved her, he needed her.
Skipper's eyes widened just as his beak was about to make contact with the wall of the HQ.
With irritation, he pushed himself away from the wall, and the image flickered away.
So what do you think? I think the greatest challenge of this entire story will be to try to keep Skipper in character.. make sure he doesn't get TOO poetic or romantic.. we don't want THAT to happen now do we? xD
~ i savor reviews, so please leave a few when you leave ;D
-G