macaria

palest shadow; darkest light

Adults doing adult things with their adult selves – a typical scenario in Macaria's life. The theme so far, if you will. And she is almost never a part of it...you know, being a child and all.

There were many things in this world, in this place, that the baby dapple-smacked unicorn knows nothing about. It is the perplexing and ever changing subject  of magic that eludes (and intrigues) her most. Well, the thing she focuses on most, that is. It fascinates and terrifies her at the same time, a sensation she has no name for but loves it just the same as any other beautiful emotion. More and more each day she lets go of the images of her mother, a mother she never knew, and finds little pieces of herself to build what will one day be a semi-completed Macaria, motherless daughter of the Dauntless.

She no longer speaks to the clouds and the moon in hopes that her mother's voice will fill her wanting ears.

It's been a while since dear ol' Dad has been seen, and she sure does adore her beloved father – surely she would lover her brothers just as much if they ever bothered to seek her company. In the month or so it's been since they last laid eyes on one another for more than a second, she has grown, Macaria is almost sixteen hands now. By next Frostfall she'll be a full grown woman, standing taller and thicker than most of the girls her same age. This body of slate gray and dappled markings, these eyes of golden amber that almost match her father's – she's beginning to like it, to be comfortable with it. Although each time she closes her eyelids to sleep she is no longer a solid form in this mortal world, but instead a wisp of light and air that sparkles and flies though the night sky with no hindrance at all. Like stardust, her thoughts say to herself. She feels like the weightless tail of a star, spilling it's magical embrace to fall across the bony backs of the mountains. She always dreams this dream and no other, awaking to feel heavy and with limbs she's unfamiliar with. This feeling of loss when she opens her eyes is slowly fading and replaced with a confidence she's never felt before.

Perhaps that is just part of growing up, she muses.

She can see him (dear ol' dad) and another in the distance, watching a pool of dancing water with a girl she's never seen before. A very beautiful girl, she notes. She approaches without caution, but says nothing, only kissing her soft lips to her fathers shoulder as she quietly takes the empty place at his shoulder. She knows better than to speak aloud right now and merely looks on with captivated eyes.