A shadow moves along the riverbank, tall, familiar, the storm-cloud scent hits her first, sudden and sharp, like lightning catching behind her ribs. Her ears flick back, then forward, trembling with alertness. Her wings twitch instinctively, foxfire along her legs flickering low as she keeps herself still.
He’s walking toward her. Not fast, not chasing, just moving, and somehow that makes her chest tighten. She wants to turn, to step away, but something heavier pins her in place. The closer he gets, the more her thoughts scatter, old fear, new hope, a strange knot of something she doesn’t want to name. She snorts softly through her nostrils, a small puff of steam curling up into the cold air, half-laugh, half-breath.
Tipsy flinches at the weight of his words, the concern tucked beneath his calm voice pressing against her chest. She lowers her head slightly, mane brushing against her shoulders as if shielding herself, though the foxfire along her legs flickers brighter, betraying her tension. “The maze,” she whispers, letting the word drift in the space between them. Her wings shiver lightly, a faint tremor running through each scale. “I… I lost count of how many times I fell, how many times I woke again, like the world refused to let me stay gone.”
She shifts a hoof, hesitant, as if unsure whether to step closer or retreat. The lilies along her chest shiver in response to the pull of magic, of him, and she swallows, forcing herself to meet his gaze, even briefly. “There was… something else,” she continues, voice quieter now. “From home. The swamp. The rougaroux. They warn you about it so you don’t wander too far at night.” Her ears flatten just a little, not in aggression, but in self-consciousness. “It wasn’t a story.”
Her head dips, mane partially shielding her face. “I… haven’t told anyone that,” she admits, words soft but steady. “…Not about the maze, not about the monster, not about how it felt to keep waking back up.” She glances up at him again, eyes searching, unsure if she can trust herself to speak more, yet drawn to his steadiness. “…I’m telling you now because… I don’t know. Maybe because you feel like the one place where the ground won’t vanish beneath me.” A pause. Her antennae quiver, wings twitch, the faint hum of magic wrapping around her like a nervous heartbeat. “If Beqanna’s magic found me,” she finishes, voice almost catching, “…it did it after I paid.”
She shifts just slightly, a subtle step closer, but stops herself. “…I didn’t expect for you to answer my call,” she admits finally, “…but I’m glad you did.”
@Tumult
I am so sorry I dropped off the side of the earth- I've been fighting for my life to find a job in this economy eeek! But at least I was abler to come back and pick this back up if you're up for it
He’s walking toward her. Not fast, not chasing, just moving, and somehow that makes her chest tighten. She wants to turn, to step away, but something heavier pins her in place. The closer he gets, the more her thoughts scatter, old fear, new hope, a strange knot of something she doesn’t want to name. She snorts softly through her nostrils, a small puff of steam curling up into the cold air, half-laugh, half-breath.
Tipsy flinches at the weight of his words, the concern tucked beneath his calm voice pressing against her chest. She lowers her head slightly, mane brushing against her shoulders as if shielding herself, though the foxfire along her legs flickers brighter, betraying her tension. “The maze,” she whispers, letting the word drift in the space between them. Her wings shiver lightly, a faint tremor running through each scale. “I… I lost count of how many times I fell, how many times I woke again, like the world refused to let me stay gone.”
She shifts a hoof, hesitant, as if unsure whether to step closer or retreat. The lilies along her chest shiver in response to the pull of magic, of him, and she swallows, forcing herself to meet his gaze, even briefly. “There was… something else,” she continues, voice quieter now. “From home. The swamp. The rougaroux. They warn you about it so you don’t wander too far at night.” Her ears flatten just a little, not in aggression, but in self-consciousness. “It wasn’t a story.”
Her head dips, mane partially shielding her face. “I… haven’t told anyone that,” she admits, words soft but steady. “…Not about the maze, not about the monster, not about how it felt to keep waking back up.” She glances up at him again, eyes searching, unsure if she can trust herself to speak more, yet drawn to his steadiness. “…I’m telling you now because… I don’t know. Maybe because you feel like the one place where the ground won’t vanish beneath me.” A pause. Her antennae quiver, wings twitch, the faint hum of magic wrapping around her like a nervous heartbeat. “If Beqanna’s magic found me,” she finishes, voice almost catching, “…it did it after I paid.”
She shifts just slightly, a subtle step closer, but stops herself. “…I didn’t expect for you to answer my call,” she admits finally, “…but I’m glad you did.”
@Tumult
I am so sorry I dropped off the side of the earth- I've been fighting for my life to find a job in this economy eeek! But at least I was abler to come back and pick this back up if you're up for it