you could break my heart in two, but when it heals, it beats for you
She is not loveliness and nothing but… She too is a student of the wild and knows what she has become. Yet would he have noticed her when she was an ordinary thing? Would she have the chance to be so discomfited by the jagged edge of him if she herself were not a saber? If she could know how clearly she is seen and how he pushes past the alarms that sound to linger near her she would be flattered but she has not the slightest idea.
In fact she ignores her own instincts to try and carry on this conversation when he seems so displeased by the sight of her. She could turn aside and chase the storm in the west rather than the one in his eyes and be much less likely to suffer a lightning strike. A storm will not say her name that way however, making it new again, raw rather than dripping in gold.
“From Tephra to Loess…” Observes the chestnut quietly, her topaz eyes turning inward and then refocusing on him. The questions she has regarding that move go unasked. They do not know one another. For a moment she wonders if she has wandered into a trap but if Castile wanted to trap her (and why would he?) he could do it himself or with someone who would not look at her like she has melted away into something foul.
Kensa brightens (she feels foolish, but can’t help it) when he asks her about her home. Her eyes would normally turn north, to fill themselves with the sight of snow covered peaks but she hasn’t looked away from Brigade and can’t do so now. Dark lashes do drift down delicately as she begins, flicking up again seconds later. “It is incredible. The mountains you have seen from Loess are covered in pine and hardwood on our side, but their granite heights are bare and even now snow clings to them. The tight places where the mountains come together make canyons so narrow that you are often forced to navigate them as a mountain goat would. In the center of it all is the lake, it is very deep but so clear you can see straight to the bottom.” Her voice rises and falls, a gentle rhythm as she appreciates her home to him. It is a challenging, beautiful landscape and… “You would be welcome to come see it. ” Softly, so that the rejection might sting less. He has given her only a question and Kensa has clung to it like she has not ever known kindness.
The wind that carries the storm eastward is only a breeze when it whispers out of the forest and disturbs the airless heat of the meadow. The flaxen waves of her mane twist in its gentle fingers, bringing them the sweet scent of rain.
Kensa
@[brigade]
