Through the meadow ripe with wildgrass they drift like ships at sea; instead of waves, wildflowers and thistles curl and break across their backs, and in their wake they leave behind only half-moon prints rather than sea-foam and spray. Tucked safely away in the warm cabins of each is a compass that points directly at the other. Like they are magnets somehow; north, and south.
Because there are some people that you meet in life that are just bigger than others.
Sometimes you see them coming for miles, and miles.
Sometimes they float in on the river as silent as apparitions; humble, transparent, and in the dark.
“Hello stranger,” the other says, drawing close but not impolitely so. Eilidh finds that looking at her might be like seeing into a magic mirror, because the gentle sway of her back and the light peppering of silver through her flaxen hair are all tokens of her own impending future. The way they stand in close proximity, mirror images in too many ways, and the softness Eilidh finds in the strangers eyes then makes her think that there is nothing strange about them, too.
“Hello,” Eilidh answers without needing to, because her body leans forward in greeting on its own.
The other asks about stories, and Eilidh finds that her eyes are drifting off towards the mound of earth behind two of the largest oak trees. For a moment she bites her tongue between her teeth to stop everything that’s inside of her from pouring out.
“Most I am afraid to speak aloud,” she admits, wrapping herself in the strange familiarity between them because the way that their bodies speak silently through morse code makes her feel as though they’ve known each other for years.
“My name is Eilidh. What is yours?”
⤜ nobody's watching, drowning in words so sweet ⤛
@[Kahea]