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 They came on the wind, on the rain, on the sun, on the clouds and mist, on the ice and slivers, making their way down the hill, cool, calm, and serene. There was nothing else to be at a herd meeting other than a poetic moniker of what composure could look like – not when there’d been so many hostile oaths, angry assurances, grumpy factions winding their way through everything and everyone who’d tried so hard to do something, anything for their herd. A hope, a spark, a buoyancy that still rested in her heart prayed this one could go well, this one could refrain from the nasty remarks and the callous disregard for one another – and her ears turned, twisted, listened to the darkened chords of the Reaper, the bright, illustrious whims of Hotaru, and the incensed tones of Rexanna. Her mind churned for the notions delivered within each speech (a recruiting contest, all species welcomed, Ashamin gone, despite his dedication, despite his loyalty, and goodness, how she wanted to know why, Frost Fyre’s ascension and Aisling’s promotion, and then the festival). It all seemed a great, grand whirlwind, but so much more peaceful, so much more right than before, feuding over wolves and metal, protecting a realm from itself. The Songbird’s first words were a prose-written enchantment for the newly ranked and garbed, the sketch of her smile worn along her lips. “Congratulations to both of you!” Then, back to Rexanna, who had graciously extended an invitation to go with her, to spread the news of their upcoming festival (she ignored the pang in her mind as memories swept of another time, another place, up in the clouds where the gods could watch, teaching Roland to dance until monsters swelled and ghosts swirled); she hoped it wouldn’t be like before, when Midas had burned the leaves of a child’s card. Times were different now, made by armistices, alliances, prosperity, peace, and repose (what a sweet word, the nymph thought, that she could rarely credit to the kingdom she belonged to). “Of course. It would be my pleasure.” The femme responded, nodding her head in respect, in accordance, to the dreams they’d made and the assurances they’d made. Lena</style> |
