macaria

palest shadow; darkest light

Macaria is no stranger to the icky, sticky touch of awkwardness. The one her age seems to be crushed by it at the moment and the dappled baby's eyes don't linger long. They flit, wandering and sweeping over the rolling mists and humid leaves. She watches her father for a moment, words starting to form on the edge of her pale lips but then her amber eyes dart northward, to the skies. Gliding above on big, serrated wings floats a familiar friend, her hums and songs creeping into the baby's heart like the roots of a life-tree. Her smile spreads naturally, wide and delighted, her eyes catching the dim sunlight that manages to pierce the thick mists. Ka'Ora. Macaria's memories of her big brother has always included her and her counterpart; the sharp eyed pair are a tell tale that Reginald lurks somewhere. Her head tipped as far is it will go, her bright eyes peeling out from underneath her long ivory lashes. She follows her circles, hoping to coax her down, to find out where her brother is.

Her surroundings fade, Vitanti, Loretta, her Father, they simply fade at the idea of Reginald's nearing. She cannot see him anywhere, though her eyes drift reluctantly from the harpy to the shadows, the churning mists and finally toward the falls. When her eyes return to the harpy's circles she finds only open sky...

Her are sinks down to her ankles and her stomach knots. She contemplates asking her father, but she's almost sure he wouldn't know where he is or why he will not come out. The moisture gathers in her wet eyes, brimming at the edges of her eyelids and threatening to fall down her soft pale cheeks. She fights it, resisting to blink until it burned, finally letting her eyes close and the flow of salty tears trickle down each cheek. She's shuffled to Archibald's side, finding his shoulder and burying her face into is fur. She does not sob, but finds the face-hiding method to be of some comfort...

Oh yeah...

She pulls it together. A few sniffles and rubbing of her tears onto her father's ebony coat and her eyes draw up to the girl. “What's your name?” Timid sounding, and through the stuffiness of a small weeping session. Blinking away the wetness in her saucer eyes, she tries to focus on the filly.