10-17-2014, 07:45 PM
Only one minute later and Fink has already had enough.
Watching as its perch leaves the peak and the fountain slowly rises before it, beady eyes squinting against the constant spray whenever its face turns towards the water column again, the bird decides to begin looking around more closely at the horizon archways.
Hopping upside the hovering stone, the bird seeks out the structures' details and, figuring that it would take some time to fly to them, tries to determine which one appears the most interesting for initial investigations.
Within seconds the avian is up, speeding through the windless air towards that which sparks the most memory of the mountain's base: the gate with an armor of bark and crawling with messy vines.
Rising higher, Fink spreads its wings wide and starts a coasting soar; on the way, it occasionally spots a moving speck here or there, but with its mind firmly made it ignores them all with gusto, passing by with little more than an occasional glance.
On the wing it manages to make it to the forested arch in swift time, and so, with an energetic rattling call the bird folds its wings and dives down for the gate, eyes set on the glowing, swirling mass within, thinking that even one touch must lead to something.
Watching as its perch leaves the peak and the fountain slowly rises before it, beady eyes squinting against the constant spray whenever its face turns towards the water column again, the bird decides to begin looking around more closely at the horizon archways.
Hopping upside the hovering stone, the bird seeks out the structures' details and, figuring that it would take some time to fly to them, tries to determine which one appears the most interesting for initial investigations.
Within seconds the avian is up, speeding through the windless air towards that which sparks the most memory of the mountain's base: the gate with an armor of bark and crawling with messy vines.
Rising higher, Fink spreads its wings wide and starts a coasting soar; on the way, it occasionally spots a moving speck here or there, but with its mind firmly made it ignores them all with gusto, passing by with little more than an occasional glance.
On the wing it manages to make it to the forested arch in swift time, and so, with an energetic rattling call the bird folds its wings and dives down for the gate, eyes set on the glowing, swirling mass within, thinking that even one touch must lead to something.