I will run the streets and hostile lands, I will touch the rain with all I have
I will breathe the air, to scream it loud. My feet will never touch the ground.
I will breathe the air, to scream it loud. My feet will never touch the ground.
She does not think her childhood has led up to a few inspiring years as queen. She does not think her life has come to this and she will never rise any higher. She does not think she will be caught in the riptide of nostalgia for the rest of her years. She does not think her mind will be lost to the wishing for the good days. She will move on. She will continue to inspire. She will love. She will seek a greater opportunity. She will rise to pave the way for love and peace. She will become something different.
But before Camelia can inspire and love and rise and cherish, she must seek out those from the past. She must make amends with the dearests she left behind – with Mast, Finner, and especially Topsail. Mast is an important factor and so she seeks him out first. She wraps her slender body in her shawl of boldness and steps out; away from the quiet corner of Beqanna she staked her lonely claim. Camelia will not resort to a timid lifestyle anymore. She is destined for greater things – even if they happen with her muzzle beginning to gray and her joints beginning to stiffen.
She seeks him out in the meadow first. It seems a good place as ever to search for her beloved, among the swarm of unknown faces and the chaos of foreign scents. It will be easier to distinguish a familiar – a loved, generous, and desirable – body among a sea of unknowns. Camelia settles herself in a good sighting distance. She can see the expanse of the meadow unfurling before her like a blossoming flower. Her warm brown eyes scan the faces of those visiting with a careful expression, looking quickly but gently for the one her heart adores.
Camelia
@[broken]