He offers her play and that is all the shadow-girl had ever wanted. A playmate, of sorts. The kind who would let her stay hidden in the shadows and who would not mind her ravaging the wildlife of the area. Even better if they would stomach the gross rabbit just because she asked him to. So Anastasia feels good about going to his home, feels good about going to wherever the Valley was with all its shadows.

When he opens up the portal, she slinks silently toward it, sticking her head in and looking around in the pure darkness before shrugging and walking all the way through. It felt different from the ones that she created, perhaps more of him than her, but it was ultimately just the shadows, which were familiar enough. She is sure she will get used to the particular brand and feel of the shadows he himself creates.

On the other side, the portal spits them out just in front of the Valley’s wall of fire, and she hisses again, backing into a portal that drops her several yards back. She was not fond of fire. She did not like the way that it danced and burned the shadows away, throwing its own along the walls in mockery. She did not like the heat of it and the aggressive smell when it ate through the wood. One day, she had made her way toward the Chamber’s tree, watching as it crackled and popped in the air.

She had hated it instantly.

So she is not thrilled to know this is home, and she turns her eyes to her playmate, not accusing him, but certainly demanding some sort of answer. “Rho-nan,” her thick voice begins, and she nods toward the wall. She pauses for a second before jerking her head slower, the motion more exaggerated in case he did not pick up on the subtleness of it at first. “Rho-nan,” she whines a little now, one hoof striking at the ground impatiently. “Is this home?” Her voice makes it clear that she hopes that it is not.

like the moon, we borrow our light
{I am nothing but a shadow in the night}

Anastasia is so simple that she is complicated. She is someone who does not have all of the decorations and armor of someone raised amongst throngs of other souls; she had never learned the social graces, and she has never learned how to lie. In this, her bluntness, her honesty, her feral instincts, she is complex. She is finely tuned to her emotions, and she is not bothered when they jump suddenly—she just enjoys the ride. She does not doubt herself or second guess what she is going to say or feel shame.

She just is.

So she just looks at him, turning back to the fire, and then to him again. “What else-where could Ana-stasia want?” If there was an elsewhere worth mentioning, wouldn’t he have mentioned it already? In her mind, they would have already been there was it worthy. Her lip curls a little in disgust as she considers the giant, blazing wall, but she shrugs finally, moving up to his side again. “Fine. Wall fine.” She would make do for now. She could always leave if she decided too later. Loyalty was beyond her.

Nudging his shoulder, the touch inky darkness, she smiles, sharp teeth glinting in delight at the silkiness of his shadows. It was the same and yet different from her. His were shallow and she got the feeling that if she leaned a little too far in, she would reach a bottom. She would reach an end. Different and yet the same. Nothing bothering to be polite and wait, Anastasia walked yet again through a portal of his creation,  appearing on the other side of the wall. Turning back to it, she spit on the ground.

“Home,” she says to no one in particular, although he is certainly there by now.
“This is Ana-stastia’s home.” She looks over. “And Rho-nan’s.”
A pause, a mockery of a smile, “Ana-stasia and Rho-nan’s home.”

like the moon, we borrow our light
{I am nothing but a shadow in the night}

She prefers him this way though. Were he to be glossy and smooth and charming, it would be off-putting. She preferred that he was rough around the edges and quiet and deliberate in his words and his actions. It was soothing to be around someone who was like her in that regard; someone who did not play games and who did not try to deceive. She was fascinated by the conversations around her and the way that the souls of Beqanna seemed to ebb and flow—but she would be exhausted to spend too much time with them. No, she much preferred the simplistic complexity of him.

She could at least understand that.

They walk through the portal together, and she breathes easier when they are on the other side, feeling the tightness in her chest loosen when she is no longer so close to the flames. She could make this a home if it was Rhonan’s home, but that did not mean she would love it. In truth, Anastasia was not sure that she would ever be capable of loving the way these souls seemed to love. It was foreign to her.

He asks if she wanted to see the rest of the kingdom, and she answers by following along him. Words were not exactly her strong suit, and she would not bother with them if she didn’t have to. Instead, she turned her sharp yellow eyes to the land around them, noting the dips and crevices in the land. In some small part of her mind, she was studying it, memorizing the way that it folded and unfolded. It would be useful to understand how to hunt there. Finally, she just nods. “Okay.”

This land would be okay. The home would be okay.
In his own way, he would be okay to her too.

like the moon, we borrow our light
{I am nothing but a shadow in the night}