no one really knows what the ocean hides
but you and I, bird, we’re gonna find out
Feral. She has overheard that word from her peers. They look at her, judge her, scrutinize her. Blue fire crackles along her crest and down her tailbone. It’s alive, hissing when a breeze whispers across her skin. They see the vibrancy of her soul that stands alone in a dreary and monotonous world. When so many others fall into a routine of kingdom life, Reia slips into the wilderness that is her mind where she has no rules, no obligations, no limitations.
It’s how she so easily slips among the cacti and ferns, undetected by most. A daughter of the king, father once reiterated to her before accepting exactly what she is. A rogue, a wildling. Nothing tethers her to the life father has helped build for the family. It merely gives her a place to sleep, but nothing more.
He addresses the kingdom or wanders to find company all while Reia roams aimlessly until she finds herself standing in front of a man that reeks of Loess, but also of a forest with leaf beds and moist soil. ”You aren’t from around here, are you?” Her golden eyes catch the sunlight and gleam with curiosity and mischief as they rake across him warily. She is near enough to touch him (to bite him, but everyone says that is a poor greeting), but instead sidles to her right and sways along an invisible track to circle him. ”Oh! You’re the prisoner, aren’t you?” A hum of realization vibrates through her core, nearly rippling through her scales as she comes to a halt in front of him. ”Are you sad that Sylva has been overtaken?” Despite her ferocious appearance – her jagged teeth peek out from her lips when she speaks – there is a tenderness in her voice when addressing him.
”You don’t look like a prisoner though. You’re too clean and well-kept,” she breathes him in as a roguish smile adorns her wild – but pretty – face. ”I could initiate you.”
and I'll be next to you when the lights go out
