Volcan;

[Volcan]

Volcan

Burn slow, burning up the back wall
Long roads, where the city meets the sky

The war-time passed slowly for the smoke girl inside the oasis he made to protect them, the children. Loneliness fraught her through most nights. Encountering other babes never truly enticed the child, for her mind surpassed theirs’; her time spent trapped another universe did not leave her unmarked. Doubly so is this true when considering her growing power; when she found herself in the throes of boredom, Volcan would practice her worldly manipulation. The sand was the was the easiest to subdue, as she was born from its mouth; other substances required more practice, and practice she did.

The war is over now, though. The blood has run through their sands and she is safe to step into it once again, older, and wiser. Contrary to the other foals, however, Volcan remains cocooned in the oasis, enthralled by the life surrounding her. Another force stays her departure, too, however. A powerful force, one of midnight and gentility.

This night, he comes.

At the sound of his voice, Volcan leaves her home behind, and reemerges to the desert as something of a woman; the yearling towers on fumbling legs and has grown in some places, but not at all in others. Her coordination often fails her, but as she walks towards him with the open, starry sky above her head, she does not fall.

Although she is no longer the tiny babe he rescued many nightfalls ago, Volcan is still a hill to his mountain. When she closes the distance between them, her first action is to nestle into his side, much as she had that first fateful day. The warmth of his wings lend the smoke girl solace, and she smiles, lips pressing into the crook of the king’s warm, soft elbow.

“You were gone for a long time, daddy. I’m glad you’re okay.”

This is not the end, this is just the world
Such a foolish thing, such an honest girl

lava texture © Mavrosh-Stock