09-10-2016, 04:54 AM
Across the sea
A pale moon rises
The ships have come to carry you home
Epithet and Leola
She had not seen him in weeks, and her mind was constantly on him and the way she had left him. She had felt bad, and so she came back in search for the one that left behind. Gunsynd had seemed like a lost, changed individual without a direction, and yet he was searching for a purpose. To be such a wanderer—a vagabond--was no something that Epithet had ever sought for herself, and yet she could understand the lifestyle. The reckless longing to be somewhere—to matter anywhere.
The change in the land had also affected the time of year. The spring that had allowed them to give birth to their babies had reverted back to winter by the Fairies’ grace—or senility, Epithet was not entirely sure—and it seemed to be going on for much longer than she had ever thought before—or remembered. And while the angel blended in almost perfectly with the grey haze that the snow left after it has been sitting on the earth for a while, her small daughter, Leola was like the blot of ink that makes a wayward stain on a piece of beautifully composed parchment.
She bounded back and forth, leaping and making her mark upon the meadow as she disturbed the piles of snow, rolled back and forth in it, making piles of snow to suit her child’s play. She laughed aloud, jumping in the drifts until nothing but her little ears were exposed. “Watch me, Mumma! WATCH ME!” She plodded along through the snow, her small fuzzy ears twitching this way and that until she was able to come to a place where her footing was more sure, climbing out of her hole, before turning around and leaping right into it again. She did this repeatedly, and while she was occupied, Epithet had the time to turn around and view the meadow for Gunny, her ears flicked behind her to supervise her strange daughter’s antics.
She wondered just how much of Leola was truly her, or if she was entirely her father.