She remembers him—even though they had met so briefly.
The boy carved of ice, although so very different from her own. An ice that she could not comprehend and could not even begin to give a voice too. Perhaps that is why she ran. Perhaps that is why she cut their conversation so short. Or perhaps it was the way that he had so quickly cut to the core of the matter, knowing that she was trailed by death every step of the way. How she had known she couldn’t handle it.
So she had left Beqanna, as quickly as she could.
Left if for the Northern mountains. Those that lay beyond. Where she could climb and climb and climb until she could barely gasp for air. Until there was nothing but a memory of what it had felt like to stare at that angelic boy and have him whisper about her father’s death to her like it was just a fact of life.
As if everyone had known.
And she only returns when she is grown. When the ice spears down her spine and her pale blue mane falls in waves down her neck instead of standing rigid down it. There is an iciness to her that she runs from still, but she has not yet lost her anchor—she holds tight to that molten core of emotion that runs through her and keeps her thawed. Keeps her still dreaming and hoping, despite the loss she has suffered.
She walks into the forest quietly, as if scared to disturb the shadows that grow long in the winter afternoon, and it is only when she spots him that she makes any sound at all. A quiet laugh that is laced with disbelief. Because of course he would be the first soul she sees when returning.
Of course he would look the same after all this time.
Curious about the twist of fate, she doesn’t move forward. Doesn’t move at all. She just angles her pale head to the side, purple eyes contemplative, and she pushes forward a wave of emotion toward him.
Something tinged with shyness but warm all the way through.
Something polite but curious.
Something like hello.
@Selaphiel