Her heart warms in her silvery chest at his innocence—at his kindness. The world once again feels soft and protected, yielding to the childlike wonder in his eyes as the moonlight floods down around them. Her pulse, which had spiked at the sound of cracking branch, eases, and her smile illuminates her delicate features, doe eyes just as warm and wide in her equine form as they had been when standing as a deer.
At his question, she laughs, but the sound is kind. It’s throatier than her usual breathy voice, nearly delighted as the light begins to spin in lazy circles around them. She tips her head back and closes her eyes, losing herself into the rhythm of the moon’s tide. It is pull that she feels herself swaying to, the waters of it moving around her slender body. When she opens her eyes and looks back to him, there is only radiance on her face and honesty in every fiber as she answers, “I am the moon.”
It was a truth passed down from her father and her mother to her and, in kind, to her brother—the sun. It was the truth that she held close to her heart as she traversed Beqanna in evening hours, looking to her counterpart hanging in the sky and knowing that like calls to like and she would return to it one day. That she was just a piece chipped away and molded to live on this land. That she would go back soon.
But she doesn’t expect him to understand, to know, the way she does. So she just smiles again. “You can call me Cressida though.” She sends a ripple of light his way to weave around his legs and up his back—the only answer that she gives to his final question.
@[Benjamen]