She had agreed to come to Nerine, but she regrets it. 

Foolishly, she had allowed herself to become briefly captivated by the girl she had met in the forest. Unlike most, she had not been so easily put off by Brinly’s abrasive attitude, even though she had never entirely softened during the encounter. That in itself was enough for her to become enchanted; even if she hadn’t shown it. She had somewhat perfect the art of appearing as stone and marble on the outside – unyielding, unforgiving. But on the inside, her heart was skipping. 

For a moment, she almost dared to hope there was something there. 

For a moment, she almost let her thoughts run away from her, she almost let herself imagine what it would be like to not be angry, to find some sort of trust in someone. 

But doubt always beat hope, and by the time she reached the cold, rocky shores of Nerine, the doubt had swallowed her whole again.

She can feel her pulse begin to quicken, and her throat tightens with nerves. The sea breeze whips and snaps at the long tendrils of her mane, and she does nothing to rid her forelock from her eyes. She should look for Brazen, she thinks. She should find her, and maybe her frayed nerves would be soothed, and maybe being here wouldn’t feel like such a mistake. 

Or, she could leave.

She could leave, before anyone saw her, and Brazen would never know the difference.  

— burn until our lives become the embers —

She had debated her escape for too long, and soon she is met with the sound of Brazen’s rapid hoofbeats. Tension brews beneath her skin like a storm, and she tries to ignore the way her throat tightens as the other girl comes closer. This was a mistake; she could already feel it. But like small prey caught in the crosshairs she feels frozen in place, even though in her mind she is disappearing back into the mountains.

She is afraid to admit that she had thought of Brazen, and that that is why she is here. She is afraid to acknowledge that the other girl had sparked a strange, unfamiliar hope inside her chest. It was still just the smallest of embers, but inside of it rests a newborn hope that, maybe, she could be a friend.

And yet, there is an even larger part of her that would rather smother it than to ever let it grow into anything more than a flame.

Just as before, the two nearly collide with each other, but this time Brinly is prepared. She flinches visibly as she slides to a stop in front of her, and that same fear – fear that always expressed itself as anger, a fleeting flash of fury in her dark brown eyes and a clenching of her jaw – that she had grown so accustomed to causes her to skin to grow hotter than usual. “Brazen,” she does not mean to say her name as curtly as she does, but it is a difficult habit to break. She diverts her gaze for a moment, refusing to meet her eyes, though she does not utter an apology. Instead, she looks back to her and swiftly continues on, though the edge to her voice softens considerably. “I wasn’t sure if I should come or not, but, I thought it wouldn’t hurt to at least...look.” She glances away from her as she says this, peering towards the rocky cliffs and where she is sure the waves crash against them. When she looks back to Brazen, she offers her a tight smile. She was entirely out of her element, and it showed. “Were you born here?”

— burn until our lives become the embers —

Much like Isilya, Brazen’s friendliness was almost anxiety inducing rather than reassuring. It’s a flaw on her part, of that she is sure; just another abnormality, that she would rather someone fight with her than show her any sort of kindness. She can’t remember if she has always been this way – she can’t remember if the white-hot poison that altered everything inside of her had twisted her personality as well, or if she has always been this bitter in the face of joy.

There is a chance that she is just a miserable individual, and that she would suffocate everyone around her with her negativity. And normally, this is when she plays the martyr and tells herself that someone like Brazen would be better off without her. This is when she tells herself it would be easier to walk away now before she can let her down, or hurt her, or mess up in all the many number of ways she usually does.

And so it is a mystery even to her that she wants to stay, though everything about her facial expressions say otherwise.

When the other girl doesn’t even seem the least bit put off by the way she had nearly snapped her name she feels a twinge of annoyance. She doesn’t know if Brazen is purposely unwavering because she knows someone like Brinly would find it insufferable, or if that’s just how she is. Either way, that in combination with the way she tells her she’s glad that she came is enough to cause her ears to flick back towards her mane, casting her an irritated glance, but otherwise saying nothing.

She sidesteps away from her effortlessly when she edges closer, not even bothering to issue her usual warning, but instead playing it off as though she was about to move anyway. She is almost certain that Brazen is attempting to see how far she can push her, since she should know by now to not touch her, or get close to her. Other than the way she clenches her teeth she does nothing besides step off towards the shoreline, but her muscles slowly relax when Brazen begins to talk. “The plague. I forgot about that,” she muses mostly to herself out loud, her gaze focused on the white caps of the waves in the distance as they break against the shore. “I missed most of that, since I was busy avoiding everyone,” the smallest of smiles conflicts with the dryness of her voice, and for a moment her gaze flits sideways to look at the girl next to her. “Did you get sick?”

— burn until our lives become the embers —