Cosmos
Cosmos walks with purpose toward the too-strong scent of the Pangea border. The night is still strong, and after the brief kiss to her forehead from Kagerus, she does not fear the shadows. Not that she quite did before, but the confidence of such a warrior invigorates her.
Unlike most, the pink child does not feel shame in her failure. She had simply turned away, is all: away from the fairies, their call and their mystery. The ache in her joints they have punished her with does not bother her yet (no, that will come in the damp and the cold), but even then she will not mind her decision.
The contagion comes from Pangea, this Cosmos knows from eavesdropping on her mother and father when she should have been asleep.
The plague ridden land had called to her suddenly, perhaps by some dark god or some thousand year old instinct. Before the monster, before stepping into the Cove - she had simply bid a quiet farewell to Aegean and turned back. Here, she can do real work: studying the sick as they waste, an unnatural understanding of death suddenly thrust upon her by the dying voice of one she could not help an hour before. An odd fascination, one that has taken to her too quickly, consuming her moldable and fascinated mind.
Sickness coats the inside of Cos’ nostrils second she passes the invisible line. She coughs, squeaky and surprised but not frightened or weak. The canyons spread before her, solemn - intimidating to most but wondrous to the little pegasus.
The tentacles of another undulate just ahead. Cosmos’ eyes widen in surprise and delight. She canters up to the kraken woman.
“Can I touch them?”
i get my face pretty
just to fuck it up
just to fuck it up
@[Yidhra] @[The Plague]
