03-29-2021, 10:59 AM
it's a mystery to me
we have a greed with which we have agreed. you think you have to want more than you need; until you have it all you won't be free. and when you think more than you want, your thoughts begin to bleed.
Despite her knowledge of Tephra’s history and landscape, Wishbone has not called the volcanic kingdom home for very long. She can say Tephra is where she found her legs, where she discovered what it meant to be loved and encouraged. She can say Nerine is where she learned what independence truly meant. She knows the lands outside of Beqanna taught her how much she loves these familiar pieces of the world. But Wishbone has always felt like home was more of a feeling than a place. Her true home was found in the smell of sun and wind on Warrick’s wings, and the deep blue clarity of Wolfbane’s eyes, and in the wind-chapped faces of her Nerinian sisters.
Perhaps it is her wandering spirit that leaves her untethered. Or maybe the broad grasp of her heart gives her too much room to feel secure in just one place. Tephra, Nerine, the wilderness, Ischia. They all blend together; her memories of the places are a kaleidoscope of faces she has once called home.
Savior. It is a strong name, but it does not spark a memory. Wishbone’s knowledge of Tephra has a large, dark gap between her childhood and the present. And while Lilliana had filled her in on the most recent political activities, there is still much she does not know about her childhood kingdom. “I’ve been back for a little while now.” She is grateful she had come back just before the eclipse, though she is sure her feet would have found the black shores when the darkness descended anyway.
Wishbone’s amber eyes find Savior, studying the lines of his face and wilting flowers tangled in his mane. “I grew up here when Warrick was king. Svedka and Warden are my half-brothers, actually.” She knows many families call the security of kingdoms home but avoid participating in politics. The purple pangare doesn’t blame them — Tephra is undoubtedly safer than any of the common lands. If she could have a second chance at children, Wishbone is confident she would raise them here. “And what about you? You strike me as a Tephra native.”
Perhaps it is her wandering spirit that leaves her untethered. Or maybe the broad grasp of her heart gives her too much room to feel secure in just one place. Tephra, Nerine, the wilderness, Ischia. They all blend together; her memories of the places are a kaleidoscope of faces she has once called home.
Savior. It is a strong name, but it does not spark a memory. Wishbone’s knowledge of Tephra has a large, dark gap between her childhood and the present. And while Lilliana had filled her in on the most recent political activities, there is still much she does not know about her childhood kingdom. “I’ve been back for a little while now.” She is grateful she had come back just before the eclipse, though she is sure her feet would have found the black shores when the darkness descended anyway.
Wishbone’s amber eyes find Savior, studying the lines of his face and wilting flowers tangled in his mane. “I grew up here when Warrick was king. Svedka and Warden are my half-brothers, actually.” She knows many families call the security of kingdoms home but avoid participating in politics. The purple pangare doesn’t blame them — Tephra is undoubtedly safer than any of the common lands. If she could have a second chance at children, Wishbone is confident she would raise them here. “And what about you? You strike me as a Tephra native.”
@[savior] ...one month later