It is the scream which draws the girl, rouses her from her reprieve and turns her head to the North, toward where the land bridge still rests, a final vein which pumps in the blood of new life from the outside world. What will it be like when they're an island, isolated and empty, sterile and clean? Will she get out less than she already does, bound as she is to the earth and sand? Or will she escape more, run free and delight in the wild wind and the sensation of flying from her home, on wings of the sun borrowed brightly and brief?
She feels her frustration voiced in the young, angry scream, her excitement and anger and ire with change. Fire Dancer instinctively follows the sound, standstill shifting to a lengthy stride, strides increasing in velocity until she's picked up a canter, a gallop, sand flying in the wake of her hooves, dark shadow darting along behind her.
Both sister and brother skid to a stop when the pillar of fire pierces into the sky, eyes growing wide and nostrils flaring- Whoa. The magic lingers when the fire fades, familiar, burning, ashen...
"Aithniel!" the girl's dark voice cries out, happiness and affection bright in her tones, surprise, wonder, delight, and a brief and blissful relief from the trials and terrors which have plagued her thoughts and weighed her heart. The firebird is taller, stronger, more filled out than when Tandavi saw her last, and a smile spreads across black lips as the sunbeam looks fondly upon her homeland's guest.
So the Moon is a killer and Gaucho her pawn. So Aithniel is the Sun's daughter (and there's something else, something dark, something gnawing at the back of her mind, begging to be remembered...). So Hototo is dead, and she failed him, despite her pledge of protection, despite her swearing to... to...
Happiness falters, fades, grows subdued. The girl is still glad to see the ashen child, but that happiness is tempered with the overwhelming darkness which surrounds their steps, fills their lungs and taints their blood. Fire Dancer's shadow leaps closer to the child, closing space and brushing affectionately against her hooves; Tandavi follows with a careful stride, mindful of how jumpy the firebird had been, remembering last time when... when...
Ampere. Oh, no.
@[Aithniel]
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