The babe, of course, understands very little of the chaos of their crumbling world.
The black shadows, when they had arrived, had been almost
normal to her innocent eyes, so blissfully ignorant, until the frantic encouragements of her mother had herded her towards the fetid, choking heart of Helovia. She may know little in her newborn mind, but she knows
fear, and she knows
pain.
(The terrible shrieks of anguish and despair are
familiar, bone-curling sounds that had been ripped from her very own lips moments after birth. They haunt her, surround her,
scare her.)
The warped tendons in her forelegs scream in protest as she runs forward, stumbling frequently across the frozen ground, while silent tears stream from her wide, shocked eyes. Even so, she dare not slow down—her pale gaze is locked forward on her mother, who guides her through the throng of mayhem. There is only one moment when she pauses—
“Arleigh! Mordecai!”—she hears their names, the familiar voice catching her attention for but a second.
But it is a second too long.
When she looks ahead again, her mother is
gone. Suddenly very, very afraid, the babe squeals, her little body trembling and her head thrashing from this side to that. She doesn’t even move. (Is this what it’s like to be alone?) But then mother is there. Arleigh feels relief, but her mother is more urgent than over.
“Elat!” she says,
“Through the portal! Ajjin!” she
commands.
The young girl whimpers but doesn’t fight, her head turning back while her mother pushes her through the portal, the final images of a dying Helovia burning into her eyes.
notes; Mentions
@Mordecai and
@Rikyn c:
“Speech.”