Brinly
When Brazen had come to Pangea she had been surprised by the unfamiliar feelings it stirred inside of her. She had not expected anyone – not even her – to notice that she had been taken from Nerine. Brinly was used to fading into the backdrop. It was better when she was quiet, she had found, so that she couldn’t accidentally create problems out of nothing. It was better when she was not in the middle of things, where her abrasive personality rubbed everyone the wrong way and reminded how much she did not belong with them.
But mostly, she was surprised that she had missed her.
And that alien feeling is exactly what makes her hesitate when Brazen had whispered to meet her in the forest.
She stays in Pangea most of the day, turning over the options and scenarios in her mind; afraid of what it will mean if she goes, afraid that it would count as some sort of admission to herself. Afraid that it would mean she would now have to acknowledge everything she had been so carefully locking down in the chambers of her chest.
In the middle of the night, she makes her decision, and she slips away.
The forest is familiar to her and she makes her way through the dark easily, stepping artfully through the brush and bramble with minimal sound.
The gray light of dawn tries to creep through the tops of the trees when she finally reaches Brazen, and for a moment she stalls at the sight of her. Apprehension grips her heart, and she debates turning around before the other girl has a chance to see her. But then she turns her head, and the sound of her name being whispered from her lips draws her forward. “Brazen,” she replies quietly, stepping forward to come alongside of her. She reaches to touch the bone armor that plates her shoulder (still hesitant, still afraid that one of these days she will somehow manage to burn right through the bone), before pulling away and saying in a tone that is a little too curt, “You shouldn’t have come to Pangea.”
— burn until our lives become the embers —