09-19-2021, 03:34 PM
ennis
He has never been as adventurous as Anaise.
He sticks close to their father instead, laughing brightly as Gulliver twists vines through his mane and tail, eyes wide with wonder when Gulliver makes flowers bloom in the dead of winter.
But he emerges a yearling as the snow melts into spring, wandering further from his father’s side than he ever has before. Even though his sister has come back with her head full of stories. How she had become the sun one night without even having to think it and he had tried to hide the way this made his heart twinge with fear but he never could keep anything from her and she had teased him relentlessly for it.
He has no desire to be the sun.
He wanders now to the meadow, heart pounding. And he wishes that Anaise were here to lend him some courage because she seemed to have inherited all of it. She’d tease him mercilessly for this, too, if she knew.
He stands there in the meadow with his heart in his throat, watching birds flit in and out of shafts of sunlight and he smiles, just barely, a kind of experimental thing as he turns his face into the light, too. It warms him down to the bone and then he remembers how Anaise had turned into the sun by accident and he abruptly turns his face away from the heat, his pulse accelerating.
Should he find cover in a nearby copse of trees? Is this how it happens?
(But she had said it had been dark when she’d started to glow so brightly that she couldn’t even stand to look at herself.)
There are so many magics that he does not understand. Truly the only thing he does understand is his father’s ability to manipulate plants like the vines still tangled up in his mane and tail and his mother’s ability to become something Other and his and Anaise’s ability to communicate with their minds.
In the end, he stays where he is, teeth gritted with determination and looks out at all the unfamiliar faces, wondering if he should go and say hello.
He sticks close to their father instead, laughing brightly as Gulliver twists vines through his mane and tail, eyes wide with wonder when Gulliver makes flowers bloom in the dead of winter.
But he emerges a yearling as the snow melts into spring, wandering further from his father’s side than he ever has before. Even though his sister has come back with her head full of stories. How she had become the sun one night without even having to think it and he had tried to hide the way this made his heart twinge with fear but he never could keep anything from her and she had teased him relentlessly for it.
He has no desire to be the sun.
He wanders now to the meadow, heart pounding. And he wishes that Anaise were here to lend him some courage because she seemed to have inherited all of it. She’d tease him mercilessly for this, too, if she knew.
He stands there in the meadow with his heart in his throat, watching birds flit in and out of shafts of sunlight and he smiles, just barely, a kind of experimental thing as he turns his face into the light, too. It warms him down to the bone and then he remembers how Anaise had turned into the sun by accident and he abruptly turns his face away from the heat, his pulse accelerating.
Should he find cover in a nearby copse of trees? Is this how it happens?
(But she had said it had been dark when she’d started to glow so brightly that she couldn’t even stand to look at herself.)
There are so many magics that he does not understand. Truly the only thing he does understand is his father’s ability to manipulate plants like the vines still tangled up in his mane and tail and his mother’s ability to become something Other and his and Anaise’s ability to communicate with their minds.
In the end, he stays where he is, teeth gritted with determination and looks out at all the unfamiliar faces, wondering if he should go and say hello.
i see that scene, i hear that voice
Hearts and flowers: my drugs of choice
Hearts and flowers: my drugs of choice