can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shooting stars,
I could really use a wish right now;
She was familiar with the strangeness of Beqanna— of the creatures that lurk and the way magic behaved in unpredictable ways.
But this was something entirely different.
This was different from unexplainable life-like dreams in the afterlife resulting in awakening with this suddenly overpowering empathy. This was different from her xenomorph and dragon sisters, different from the glittering skins and vibrant colors.
This was dark and heavy, sinking its way past her skin and to the depths of her chest where it settled like a stone. And around that stone beat her heart, anxious and humming, as she tries to not think of things that she cannot see in these new shadows.
Everything is fine, he growls, and while she cannot see the way the eclipse has trapped him within his own body she can feel the unsettled emotions that radiate from him. It makes her shrink backward, her delicate nose tucking near her chest, and she wonders if she should leave.
Her eyes adjust to the darkness though, slowly, and she can see that way that he convulses, and if not for the snarl of his tone she would have stepped closer to him. As it is she reluctantly remains standing, seemingly frozen— confused by the eclipse that lingers in the sky, worried by the way the wolf seizes and trembles, but too timid to do anything about either one.
The sound of skin tearing is nearly enough to send her away. She stumbles backward at the sound of it, her heart hammering as if it was trying to escape the confines of her ribs, as if it were willing her legs to follow suit. And had it not been for the way that he cries out she is sure that she would have ran — already fighting off the flashbacks of Ripley and Nostromo lashing at her skin, her scars seeming to crawl and burn at the memory. But his panic floods through her, bright and cold, taking hold of her and keeping her in place.
She doesn’t know how she does it, but somehow, she shuts him out.
She blocks out his panic and his emotions, she keeps him from drowning her beneath the immensity of his own confusion. And because she has always been too selflessly kind she steps towards him, reaching for the once-wolf that now stumbles blindly in his equine form. “I’m here,” and though her voice is whisper-soft she pushes something stronger towards him—a sense of calm and security, though she doesn’t realize yet that she’s doing it. She thinks it, though—she thinks how she wishes she could make him less afraid, wishes that she could soothe his panic and his confusion even if she cannot fix the situation.
She reaches for him and touches her nose just lightly to his shoulder, just enough to show him where she stands and to try and get him to settle. “Follow me,” she beckons, still close to him but taking a guiding step away. Her eyes are focused on the shelter of the trees that flank the meadow because she cannot shake the feeling that they should not be out in the open.
I'm praying that this stairway leads somewhere like Heaven's door,
and when you get there don't look down
@[Crevan]