HOLD MY HAND AGAINST THE NIGHT

SHOW ME ALL THE DEMONS LEFT TO FIGHT:

The girl notices the small bit of space provided by Lyanna. Despite its small measure, Ru had ever rarely experienced it before. Besides the occasional mass gatherings, this was a far more intimate inclusion. It was a form of being embraced, given the circumstances. And while Lyanna and Erthë talk, the girl simply found herself dumbfounded.

Her attention halts on Lyanna, after a swoon of air causes snow to plop onto the ground, snow dusting the air. She addresses the predicament of a name, a calling. She offers a nickname, making the girl grunt without realizing. “Clearly, I’m not very good at names.” A light grin confirms that she agrees with Lyanna on this part, though the expression steadies itself. Fading quickly for thought. There’s hesitation with her nod to confirm the name, only because Ru doesn’t like the idea of ‘feather’ replacing her real one. Or preventing anyone from searching for it with her… The prospect of reclaiming that sound remained nestled, settled in those hopes and dreams. In no circumstance would she abandon its cause with laziness, relenting to made-up things, for ease and simplicity’s sake.

‘Feather.’ She’s lost in thought once more when the pair continue to talk. It wasn’t a very formidable name, not the kind of name that struck fear or respect in your enemies (not that she had any).

Ears twist up when Erthë mentions their predicament. Which seems to be something the inquisitor hasn’t been particularly fond of, or so the theme persists. The girl manages a brief raise of her brow, cast towards the pale mare in careless ire. Their worry would appear logical, but the girl cannot fathom logic with the miles behind her. If she had a voice, she might tell them – if they were willing, if it made a difference. But she knew in the end it wouldn’t have. Perhaps it would paint a clearer picture, perhaps she might convince them – but all liars have voices. And the things of time and action could attest true intention.

Or so Ru imagines, because she can’t possibly think of any other way. Unfamiliar with the dealings of the Edge, despite Lyanna’s words, reflects her indifference for it’s inner workings – it just isn’t quite her business yet.

Lyanna continues, providing the assurance of escape. It wasn’t quite the physical cage she feared, compared to the social one. Always looking in. But perhaps it’s to be expected as a newcomer. The obsidian-clad lady, with her warm words of encouragement offers a curious question. Ru has never thought of jobs, besides her heroic intentions. The mare tilts her head and coos out, a sound that dips and heightens regardless of its imperfections. Hoping to mimic the depths of a question.

But if it will keep her busy, if it will make her useful and valuable to their eyes – then perhaps a job would be worth it after all.

The girl nods after the flare of intrigue, chirping brightly in response.

Why not?

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦