[private] breaking like the waves down on the coastline; larke

[larke]

carried by the current of the morning
miles below the surface of the dawn

Larke is still not certain what to make of the path that now lies before her.

Her father has never asked a favor of her before—in fact, it is difficult to imagine him in need of anything—and she knows in her heart that she would never be able to deny him, never turn her cheek. But she also is old enough now (young though she may be) that she knows this will not be easy. She has heard her father’s stories enough to know that lands do not take kindly to strangers and her healer’s heart aches with the idea that she will be seen as an intruder, as a dictator, as anything but the kind, shy girl that she is.

Still, she reminds steady in her commitment to Vulgaris and Tephra.

Quietly, she walks along the beaches, getting to know the land and wondering why her mother always looked toward it with something like pain in her eyes. Puzzled, but unable to find the answer, she simply continues walking until she is caught by the mare who approaches her. She is unlike anything that Larke has ever seen—bright and as beautiful as Ischia itself and Larke feels her heart swell in her chest with something like awe when she looks at her. Suddenly shy, she dips her head at the question.

“Yes,” she says, her voice steady despite the nerves. When she glances back up her, sage green eyes are clear and there is a small smile that tips the edges of her velvet lips—something sweet and gentle that barely blooms. “I have not yet been able to meet many who live here.” There is regret clear in her voice, an apology for something that isn’t sure she knows how to name. “Have you lived here for long?”

It feels like a silly question to ask (none have lived here for as a little as Larke), but she asks it regardless.

this is not the place that I was born in
but it doesn't mean it's not the place where I belong

larke

@[Eva] - you're an angel for waiting. thank you. <33