[open] we're only taking turns holding this world

[Viszla]

Myrna suffocate the fire  i started-------------------- right when it kindles Myrna Golden-Smile, the angel replies, and the namesake reappears. To the idea of a walk, the mare nods, the gesture dislodging a katydid perched within her crown. They carry on down the path that she’d been taking in from the sea, broad and well-worn into the earth of the Gates. Though Myrna has no inherent halo of her own, the magic of the floral crown she wears weaves ever more blossoms along their path. Her companion passes beneath a newly grown wisteria that Myrna lowers her head to avoid. She’s almost successful, but a few of the purple blossoms join the riotous mass upon her head, torn loose by one pointed horn. She pauses just a moment to dislodge them, her ears pricking forward to catch the question Lilia asks. “I have,” she replies, yet finds as she tries to count the years they slip away as quickly as the wisteria. Her children are grown, no longer a measure, and each year is much the same. “This is the Gates,” Myrna answers as the wind begins to pick up. “There are other lands, I know, but I’ve not seen many of them. I prefer it here.” And who wouldn’t, she thinks as she looks over the rolling autumn hills, still liberally colored with late-blooming flowers.That she’d most prefer to step into the flowers and disappear, she does not speak that aloud. Not when a cold drop of rain splatters long her blazed nose, the sensation sending a shiver down her spine. “Race you to the Mother Tree?” She asks her companion as they round a hill and the tall tree comes into view. The rumble of thunder echoes around them, and the patter of rain behind them grows louder. They won’t escape the rain entirely, but if they can make it to the shelter of the tree they’ll at least avoid the worst. @Lillia