The morning was dark and stormy, and the dove had watched as the winter storms swirled overhead, pushing into the mainland from the sea. They had come with a torrent of rainwater, the most that the desert landscape would probably see all year. Rarely did snow fall on these golden sands, kept away by the dry, hot climate. Tonight, temperatures would drop, plunging to depths that she did not know how to describe; but for now, during the day, the temperatures were stable above the freezing point. There would be no snow today, only a frigid, chilling rain.

Astraeus huddled miserably on her withers as she stood beneath the trees of the oasis. The greenery offered little shelter, as sparse as the leaves were, but it was better than nothing. The twins had been nearby for most of the morning, but as the sky began to lighten and the rain began to slow, she allowed that they might go to play. Her instincts told her that the clouds would remain, but the rains would depart, and they were old enough now to roam where they pleased within the Throat, so long as they told her where they were going.

The wakiya did not move when the children did, as cold and wet as he was; it would take him some time to thaw and dry, and he would not attempt a flight until that time came. Instead, as the angel moved from beneath the trees to sip quietly at the reservoir before her, he clung all the tighter to her. She barely felt the bite of his talons, by now used to their pinch. She offered a murmur of sympathy before striding lazily along the shoreline.

Some instinct - perhaps a mothering knowledge - brought her to the cliffs, and as her eyes set upon her son, she was suddenly sure that something was amiss. He stood alone, staring out over the waves, seeming lost in thought. His owl perched upon his back much like her zephyr sat upon hers, and the pair struck her as entirely too lonely. She approached silently, coming to a halt beside the boy and casting her own gaze out to sea.

The storms raged fiercely over the open water. "Do you know why storms are more dangerous out at sea?" she asked her son, motherly love in her voice. Perhaps he was merely entranced with the storms; but if there was something bothering him, she wasn't going to force him into talking about it. She was here. That was what mattered, right?

"Talk talk talk."
Astraeus.

Tag :: @[Hawke]
Setting :: In the Dragon's Throat, on the cliffs watching the storms brewing out at sea; daytime.
Notes :: Wearing crystallized rose necklace.

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