There is something in the arc of her neck where she stands - where her delicate head is raised - that comes to settle in between her shoulders. Her sons are behind her and though she longs for nothing more to lay down beside them, to forget the day gone and dream for the one yet ahead of them, the sight of these two young mares calls her away from that.
She glances behind her, one more look to assure herself that the two softly glowing colts are still resting.
They are and she breathes easier because of it, the tightening in her chest grapples itself free as it emerges as a dark sigh from her dark mouth.
All the mares here take their own spins and twirls at this dance - their own movements at testing the midnight waters of the shadows intertwining around them. It’s only when the constellation - the fallen star - looks her way does she see the same clouded gaze of Neverwhere, of Tyr. Do the stars guide her as well, she wonders? She has maps and compasses glowing all across her star-hued hide. Surely, they wouldn’t let such a girl amble in the dark.
(But they might, she knows, thinking of another girl marked by the heavens. She had been marked for greatness and they never offered any insight from the heights that she would fall from. They could.)
The other girl makes her think of a doe, of the fleeting and swift graces in which they run. Of the way that life - always watching, always waiting, always on the edge of a heartbeat. Lilliana lowers her head to her and makes no motion to come any closer. So long as her children are soundly resting, there is no need for her to move from where she stands.
"Forgive me,” the copper mare murmurs softly into the creeping night. "It wasn’t my intent to startle you.”
Dark or day, there is barely anything about Lilliana that could startle anyone. It’s the very thing that keeps her out here - in the Meadow. (Peace is what she'd offer them both if she could - but that's such a hard thing for her to do these days when she can barely comfort herself.)
Her attention goes back to the fallen star and there is an upward curve against her dark mouth, hidden by the cover of night. Her voice remains steady, quiet. It’s a tone she takes with both her sons, the same voice that spoke of legends like fierce Ichiro and brave Rahown. Knights and battles and noble kingdoms from days long gone.
It’s a voice that lingers on the hazy boundaries of a dream, soft like the embrace of Taiga’s fog. Curious, she asks: "and what do you hear? What song is the night calling to you both?”
She glances behind her, one more look to assure herself that the two softly glowing colts are still resting.
They are and she breathes easier because of it, the tightening in her chest grapples itself free as it emerges as a dark sigh from her dark mouth.
All the mares here take their own spins and twirls at this dance - their own movements at testing the midnight waters of the shadows intertwining around them. It’s only when the constellation - the fallen star - looks her way does she see the same clouded gaze of Neverwhere, of Tyr. Do the stars guide her as well, she wonders? She has maps and compasses glowing all across her star-hued hide. Surely, they wouldn’t let such a girl amble in the dark.
(But they might, she knows, thinking of another girl marked by the heavens. She had been marked for greatness and they never offered any insight from the heights that she would fall from. They could.)
The other girl makes her think of a doe, of the fleeting and swift graces in which they run. Of the way that life - always watching, always waiting, always on the edge of a heartbeat. Lilliana lowers her head to her and makes no motion to come any closer. So long as her children are soundly resting, there is no need for her to move from where she stands.
"Forgive me,” the copper mare murmurs softly into the creeping night. "It wasn’t my intent to startle you.”
Dark or day, there is barely anything about Lilliana that could startle anyone. It’s the very thing that keeps her out here - in the Meadow. (Peace is what she'd offer them both if she could - but that's such a hard thing for her to do these days when she can barely comfort herself.)
Her attention goes back to the fallen star and there is an upward curve against her dark mouth, hidden by the cover of night. Her voice remains steady, quiet. It’s a tone she takes with both her sons, the same voice that spoke of legends like fierce Ichiro and brave Rahown. Knights and battles and noble kingdoms from days long gone.
It’s a voice that lingers on the hazy boundaries of a dream, soft like the embrace of Taiga’s fog. Curious, she asks: "and what do you hear? What song is the night calling to you both?”
LILLIANA
all that i'm after is a life full of laughter
(as long as i'm laughing with you)
@[*Jenger]
but it's all in the past, love
it's all gone with the wind