She knows the white mare is her mother just as she knows that this world is new and she is new. She is fresh. She knows her name. A simple smooth movement off the tongue. Ciri. She knows that where she was before is different from where she is now. She is of time and space, created by a simple malfunction in the atmosphere when two strangers stumbled into each other. Now she is here, now she is one with this world. Grounded and fragile. Not forever, not always. When she grows she will become something greater than she is now. Already her silver eyes take in the world with a look of one that’s walked these lands before. She hasn’t and she has. They will say she’s an old soul and she will smile and simply nod while thinking “No, I am new. I just know what is to come.”
For now she is just a child, a newborn who has slipped into the chilly spring air. Existing. A hungry child that presses into her mother’s flank once she has mastered standing on her fragile spindly legs. A voice, strange and deep, distracts her and she looks at the man. He tries to hide his grief but he fails. The silvery strands that swirl in the depths of her eyes brighten as she looks at him. Something she doesn’t know, something she can discover. ”Father?” She asks curiously for she knows that the white mare is hers and that somewhere there’s another that she is connected to. Time and space.
C I R I
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