Fire dancer flickers through the sparse evergreens, the penumbra of a memory, the echo of a ghost. She recognizes the call - recognizes a hundred other calls within it, a history of familiar voiced summoning them to attention - and is drawn to it like a moth to flame, carefully, fluttering, her footsteps muted on the bed of fallen leaves. She has clung to the tree line since her induction here, hung upon the bark like so much moss; she does not know how like she is to her mother in this way, a moon-struck figure on the periphery of the herd, a silent observer bathed in gold. Were anyone to tell her she would likely be struck, speechless with the implications, overwhelmed by something she did not care to acknowledge.
Instead of dwelling on her family she drifts away, leaving the safety of solitude for the press of bodies, the promise of faces she does not know. It is strange, still, like falling into a dream you could swear to be real, were it not for the fact that every face is a stone; it is strange to look around and see other figures than those she remembers, smell other bodies, taste new magic in the air. Yet it excites her, too, for here she is fresh- not Tandavi the Fire Dancer, not the daughter of Rishima, niece of Mirage- here she is nobody, nothing, eager to rise like a phoenix from the earth, to spiral and flicker into someone new. This place is her home but without ties to family; it is both old and new, familiar and strange, and though she knows it it does not know her.
She drifts into the meeting confident in this knowledge, secure in the safety of her anonymity, except-
-Except then she sees them, and her security and confidence vanish like smoke, leaving naught but a copper filly, her eyes filled wide with surprise.
Natraj sees the foxes first, while Tandavi sees the owls- and while the Fire Dancer balks and signals alarm, her brother bounds forward like an unleashed kite, an unspeakable glee swallowing up the girl's dread. He darts toward Inari and (the immensely attractive, all-grown-up) Riona like a bat out of hell, pouncing without hesitation upon his oldest friend, tails waving their frantic excitement for all the world to see. His joy pulls his sister like a magnet, but still she lingers back- afraid of Sacre, afraid of Mauja, afraid of the ghosts of her past which have suddenly risen like mist form the earth, spilling through her nostrils and threatening to choke her where she stands. What is Sacre doing here, in a place that must bring back nothing but nightmares? And Mauja- had he come back here to stomp upon her family's legacy, to reclaim the land after burning Mirage? Would they see her and hate her, out her for her history, drag her in front of this gathering and proclaim her Tandavi, the failure, the one the Qian left behind?
No- Sacre wouldn't do that to her, the girl was sure, and Mauja...
...well, Mauja doesn't even know who she is, and the copper child is not about to spill those beans.
Carefully she steps forward, an aureate ear on the unfolding meeting, and a copper one on the menagerie of foxes, owls, and two men. A hesitant smile creeps onto her lips, something childish and shy; it matches the tentative patter of her heart, the memories of friendship and secrets bringing a soft flush to her vibrant face. Silver tail beats an anxious rhythm against her golden hocks; her gold-dusted body curves around him, shy and careful, eager to touch but unwilling to get to close, lest he ups and disappears.
"Sacre," she murmurs, her alto voice low and bright. "What are you doing here?" Her words are not an accusation; instead they are filled with wonder, with hope, with eagerness for his easy smile and expectation of his vibrant eyes. She walks around him, hoping that perhaps she will go unnoticed by his spotted companion- perhaps the fire dancer can become a shadow, a shade, invisible to all but her friend.
Through his gleeful thoughts Natraj barks a laugh. You, a shadow? You're literally on fire, all of the time.
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Big Ideas Have Small Beginnings [Herd Meeting]
