[open] we could dream this night away

[Zohariel]

zohariel

The autumn morning air has turned cold and frost clings to the grass of the meadow in thick crystals, but Zohariel is not thinking about either of these things. The chill of the air is a distant concern, not worth worrying about even if she wasn’t distracted - and she cannot see the frost clinging to the grass because she is surrounded by a pocket of night.

She knows that dawn has already come - she had watched it happen and she had admired the way the light had turned the frost golden. The bright red sun had only just cleared the tops of the trees when night had suddenly come again. The shadows that have been surrounding the yearling more and more lately grew dense until she could swear she could make out stars if she looked up.

The darkness obscures the landscape around her, and she can’t tell that night hasn’t returned to the entirety of the meadow - just her immediate surroundings. Extending out a dozen or so feet in every direction and it follows her as she paces, trying to discover the edges of this strange darkness. After stopping and turning and taking a few steps in a few different directions she gives up with a frustrated huff.

And then she does the only other thing she can think of to do - she closes her eyes and tries to relax. Maybe if she does that, whichever part of herself that is holding onto the night will let go and the sun can fall around her as it should be doing.

open to any!

[liesma]

liesma—

It is the night in the middle of day that coaxes her out of the shadows she has tucked herself inside. 

(She does not consider herself a curious thing, Liesma, because to be curious is to be inherently childlike and she has never known what it meant to be young. She had been a child once—and in many ways still is—but she is so much like her father.)

It draws her to it, the night, as it moves across the meadow. And perhaps there is some significant part of her that must know who is responsible for the darkness, because her sister has spent so long cloaked in darkness.

(And Liesma had been jealousy-stricken that Zohariel should be the night embodied, dripping with stars and darkness, but it had been short-lived, replaced instead by the kind of love she had not known possible. The kind of adoration that can only be felt for one’s sister.)

She wanders toward the heart of that darkness, eyes widening as she plunges straight into it, and finds her sister there at its center. And she might have smiled had she not taken after their father. Instead, her eyes soften and she draws in a long breath, savoring the cool rush of night. 

“This gift of yours is the only thing that has ever made me sick with envy, sister,” she murmurs and turns her black gaze up to the sky. 

—staring at the sky
watching stars collide

@Zohariel

[Zohariel]

zohariel

She’s grateful that the face that interrupts her thoughts is a familiar one - but even the joy of seeing Liesma isn’t enough to get her to relax or for the night to disappear. The idea that her older sister - who is absolutely perfect in Zohariel’s eyes - could be envious of anything she can do is almost laughable. But she would not dare laugh, not when she thinks there’s a compliment in there beneath the absurdity. And not when laughter wasn't a common sound in their family.

“I’ve got plenty of envy for the both of us, Lies.” Zohariel answers quietly, her golden eyes soft as they look from the shadows around them to her dawn-beautiful sister. It often didn’t feel quite fair being the only one in their small family who didn’t have any wings. They had a father built for the day, a mother for night, Liesma with the dawn, and Zohariel - she was still trying to figure out where she fit in.

But her thoughts are grounded in the current situation and not in those insecurities - because she knows too that her family has never intentionally tried to cut her out.

Although the pocket of night around them may be lovely - it still troubles her. “Would we still call it a gift if I can’t control it?” She glances around them - frowning at the shades of blue that the night turns everything.

@liesma