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[OPEN] the wrong year

Tandavi The Fire Dancer Posts: 245
World's Edge Nurse atk: 6.5 | def: 9 | dam: 4
Mare :: Equine :: 16.1 :: 5 HP: 65 | Buff: NOVICE
Natraj :: Plain Kitsune :: Fire Charks
#2
07-21-2016, 08:48 PM


A creeping beam of sunlight smiles, and the girl and her brother smile back.

They love to walk the beach at dawn. It is one of the things they miss most about the Throat- one of, in a list of many, a list which spans the breadth of their discomfort in a home that fits like an ill-made suit. The Edge is stifling in its familiarity, suffocating in the ways it is strange; even the fox's jubilant nature cannot set the pair at ease, and so they retreat to something familiar, like crescent hoof prints in the golden sand. The rising color of a blushing dawn paints the pair in pale pastels; they walk with an eye to the encroaching sun, enjoying the silence, the salty breeze. Here they feel at peace with the world. Here the girl feels safe.

They nearly miss the pale mare, nearly lose her to the horizon. She is a statue in the children's path to the dawn, a women garbed in blue and foam- an echo of the sea. Fire Dancer notes her first, trepidation blooming through her chest, a visceral reaction which short her steps. She hesitates, irrationally distressed: how dare this stranger intrude on her solitude, threaten her thoughts, her means of escape. She considers retreating, turning her back to the sunrise, sacrificing the view for the sake of solitude- but of course her brother has other ideas, and before she can protest he is off and away, a small black shadow bounding through the sand. He knows the filly is discontent, that she would much rather turn and flee-

He knows this, and disregards it. Four years of being bound by the soul have taught Natraj that the best course of action is generally to disregard his sister's anxiety, and that in time she will thank him for that lack of concern. This is for you, my sullen sister, the kitsune teases across their bond.

Fire Dancer can do naught but sigh.

She approaches at a leisurely pace, content to watch her brother's buoyancy through observant, onyx eyes. The fox is a comedian, his delight at meeting strangers palpable: he prances to the mare's side and promptly rolls onto his back, displaying his stomach in a sign of friendship before rising back with a friendly yip. "He wants to know if you came from the ocean," the girl translates at her brother's request, drawing to a stop some paces from the pair. Her voice is low in the quiet air, a tentative smile on her moon-slashed face, a careful composure to her copper form. She is a sunbeam wreathed in embers, a windswept wraith, a swatch of crimson, like blood on the sky. She looks on the four-winged mare and marvels at the Gods, wonders that they could make something quite so beautiful as this mare. For she is beautiful, and her brother agrees; and because they are children, because they are shy, because because they are honest, they tell her so.

"You look like the sea."



THE FIRE DANCER
for it was I who walked among the falling stars, and did not burn
credit | credit


@Ultima
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Messages In This Thread
the wrong year - by Ultima - 07-21-2016, 03:12 PM
RE: the wrong year - by Tandavi - 07-21-2016, 08:48 PM
RE: the wrong year - by Lotherarius - 07-26-2016, 08:40 AM
RE: the wrong year - by Ultima - 08-09-2016, 03:06 AM

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