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S he does not know much about her father’s family. He had been gone for the majority of her childhood, absent during the formative months when she might’ve listened to the history of her existence. By the time he came home, Kamaria was in her rebellious year — no amount of words could have gotten past the wall of anger she formed in the face of her father returning. Despite Tiercel’s attempts, the star-girl would not listen to the stories of his past, of his many siblings, of her grandparents.Perhaps if she had listened, she would have recognized the faint shimmer of his markings as a sign of kinship. Her delicate head turns in his direction when he speaks. Navy blue eyes study what parts of his face she can see. The stag disintegrates into stardust that hangs in the air for a moment before reforming into a replica of Malik’s face. There are differences between reality and the starlight version, but it is only because the softer bends of his face are hidden in the shadows. The stars are perfect at imitating his eyes, which reflect back his expression of controlled curiosity and judgment. “Malik.” She tests his name on her lips before giving her own. “I’m Kamaria.” The muscles around her eyelids tighten as she carefully studies the cracked glowing horn. Slowly the starlight crafting Malik’s face shifts, sharpening the accuracy of the horn. With a soft sigh, she urges the starlight on his replicated horn to pulse brighter. “What happened?” |
credit to nat of adoxography.
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Malik