[private] Please stay, for this fear it will not die; Daemron.

[Noori]

Most days, most days stay the sole same
Please stay, for this fear it will not die
Down low, down amongst the thorn rows
Weeds grow, through the lilies and the vines

As the sun bears down on the small lump of white wood and pale green-centered flowers, a stranger approaches. At least, Noori interprets the sound of the hooves colliding with the rock-strewn earth as such, figuring in her delusioned youth that no one truly knows of her. Though she holds some memories of her past life, the clarity with which she views them is not yet enough to allow her any true grip on how that reality and this one intermingle - she cannot identify who is who to her then, for these days, everyone is new to the her she is now.

The walking stops, and a familiar scent overrides the smell of ash. The tree stump's nostrils wiggle from where they are lodged between her knees; but her exhaustion momentarily demands her attention, successfully convincing her to ignore the smell and the silence. Fluttering between the land of dreams and the land where a volcano nearby spews ash and smoke, Noori's dogwood flowers shift lazily in the breeze, happily drinking up the powerful rays of light which re-energize the alien creature.

Mother?

That word, however, sufficiently rouses the babe.

Mother? She thinks to herself. Mother...

With a subtle cracking sound, she unfurls. Legs stretch and neck straightens, the motion of it absurdly tree-like as the process of awakening begins. The strange, lethargic movement continues for nearly a minute before her eyes open wide enough to see, and her legs move quickly enough to bring her to her hooves. When at last she does stand before the familiar stallion, it is with a frown of wonder and with parted, girlish lips.

Words bubble somewhere in the deep recesses of her conscious mind, but for now, they fail her.

Instead, the magician calls forth a creature whom she immediately recognizes but cannot immediately describe; it takes less time than she anticipated for the thing to obey her command. It must be eager, having lurked nearby. When it arrives, a sharp whine pierces the air between mother and son, perhaps sensing the tension that Noori cannot. He warns her with his cry, but she neglects to hear it.

The wolf is small, scrawnier than those which Daemron has been surrounding himself with as of late; a male, as black as night with luminous yellow eyes. His lips part and come together again in a show of need and submission, eyes flashing from she who commands him, and to he who he loves. Noori blinks carefully at the canine, then stretches her tiny nose towards him, brushing its firmness against his powerful jaw. Rest, she thinks, and the wolf obeys, falling into a heap of long black legs and closing his eyes immediately.

Noori looks up, considers the chestnut with willow-frond hair.

"Daemron..." she murmurs at last, frowning as the word befalls her lips without her permission or understanding. Needing to grasp on to something that does make sense, she looks sharply to the wolf, then back at her son. "You neglect members of your pack... why?" Something must be busying him, busying his mind; she wonders, uselessly, just what that which worries him may be.

noori

@[Daemron]