If Rosebay were truly capable of deep sadness, surely she would feel it for the disappearance of her mother. Surely she would feel something like fear for the stories of how her mother had sought the mountain’s help, how she had yielded that power to bring back lands of old, and how the earth had split to swallow her whole. She would feel sorrow for the look of almost sorrow on her father’s face and the way that he had faded into the shadows once more—leaving just her and her sister in the aftermath.

But such things do not take root in her so easily.

So instead she feels something like an emptiness that she must fill. A continued need to finish her quest so that she may become more of her true self. (She does not learn caution from the story of her mother—and how the help of faeries does not always go the way that you would hope.)

She stays in Pangea for the moment, wandering until she finds the young girl who is so clearly a child of Ghaul that it nearly stops her short. (Although she knows more of Ghaul from stories than personal experience.) For a second, she nearly keeps walking, but curiosity gets the better of her. Sinks a hook in the belly and draws her closer—delicate steps crossing the distance between them.

When she is close enough to smell the rot and the poison, her vision swims with excitement.

“Hello there,” she says with a soft simper, her lips turning in the corner. “I haven’t seen you before.”

but in all chaos, there is calculation

Rosebay knew little of solitude, if anything. She did not always remain in the presence of her own company, but she knew the feel of it well. Knew what it felt like to retreat into the shadows with naught but your own thoughts to accompany you—the only comfort being the presence of your own memories. But she still seeks out others, especially, when it suits her. Especially when she hungers for more.

And she cannot imagine more, right now, than the potential that shimmers around this other girl.

Her laugh is quick and nearly genuine at Isotope’s response, a soft chuckle that sounds like an exhale as she steps closer, pausing only when the mare angles herself into the shadows. It was a delicate balance, she knew, and she had no desire to frighten the girl off before she had learned what lie beneath.

So she pauses, leaving the space between them, watching with kinder eyes than the norm.

“That’s fair,” she concedes with a shrug of her shoulders. “You are not missing much,” an observation as she sniffs, turning her attention toward the rest of the kingdom that unfolds around them. When she looks back, she does not bother to hide the curiosity that blooms there—the admiration.

“My name is Rosebay,” she offers, waiting to see how the other would respond.

If she would step forward into the open palm or simply bite the hand that could eventually feed.

but in all chaos, there is calculation