| In time she grows bored, as children are wont to do, and ventures out again from the depths of the chasm to the lip of the world, the great room called sanctuary which she has begun to think of as tomb. In the absence of time the tick of her heartbeats has grown immeasurable in length, marking off a progression of seconds that mean nothing but stretch into eternity, encompass the youthful mind in a gauzy sash of scratchy silk, sets an itch in the back of her mind that the stagnant caverns can no longer fill. Besides, she is healed now, and in her renewed (if not well-nourished) body grows a need, an aching hunger to go back and find the ones who she left behind, to conquer, to save.
Restless she strides through the winding world, gold-dipped legs throwing clouds of dust. A flicker of flame in the dim lit stone, firedancer flows through vacant space, inspecting the cracks left behind by despair. The stone in her mane casts light into shadow, and she follows the beam, black eyes aching for a taste of motion, a familiar face. So many strangers lurk under the ground, an army of faceless, shapeless forms, and so few bear names that mean something to the girl. Where is Semira? Kaj? Where are Amaris and Hototo, the few she might call friend? Where is--
Sacre?
She recognizes the scent before the mumble, and her body moves before her mind, pushing her muscles into a hurried, awkward prance, half trot and half walk and entirely graceless, tight with dizzying nerves. It is not until she rounds the corner and spots his form, black with red in the entrance of the cave, that she pauses, and a wave of uncertainty crashes down upon her back, liquid paralysis dancing spirals down her spine. Unbidden, thoughts rise to the surface of the lake- what of the last time they met? Does he loathe her? Will he forgive her, for failing Lace? Are they friends? Should she loathe him? Who is the girl with him, and why does it make her crinkle with a brittle, sour envy to see them together, an unreasonable sense of writhing dislike that she is in the boy's good grace, that she can be cared for, that he likes her more?
Will he leave her, cast her back to being alone?
The electric blue mare crackles and snaps with the flavor of charred earth, smells of storms and a rising wind as Tandavi makes her bold approach, eyes held tight to avoid betraying the whirl of emotion which pulls at her heart. She can feel the magic that sits beneath the black mare's flesh, just as she can sense the acrid pull of Sacre's power; it soothes her somewhat, tells her a secret that lends her strength. From the bloodied side of the red-horned colt she makes her approach, gold-slashed face held high in defense. A flicker, a pause, a moment of release - you looked lonely, he says to the mare, and filly feels a pang of guilt as hurried emotions escape her eyes, to be locked back in a moment passed. She has become lost, again, within herself; and in the re-gained safety of her armored resolve, she wraps up her insecurity, blankets them beneath her resolve to save them all.
"We can make it better," the filly declares, although what exactly is bothering the mare she does not know- she can only assume that it is the world at large, the oppression of fear which has taken their lives. She stops beside Sacre but looks at the mare, carefully keeping her gaze from the boy as his scent fills her nostrils and her heart skips, confused. He is a problem she knows not how to solve, a hope she can't trust and a response she can't control. The mare is concrete, her distress clear- a princess for Tavi the Dancer to save, not an enigma with strength in her thoughts. Focus is safe when it's left on the mare, and Tandavi rests it there, quietly willing the ball of emotion which has settled in her stomach to just go away.
[ @[Ampere], @[Sacre]. Sorry for the wait D: ]
THE FIREDANCER
for it was I who walked among the falling stars, and did not burn | |
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[O] Don't let go - you got the music in you
