anyone;

[Sunday]

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Sunday is not so far away from the stone still Amazonian as the storm rolls in. Sunday turns her face to the gale, letting the sensation of the wind and earth blow her down. Once she felt so in tune with the elements, with the jungles' appointed magick. She could see auras, she could heal (albeit, limited), she could help. Now she is helpless and blind and deaf. She wasn't born with magick like some of the others had been, so its loss was not crippling.

It's not in Sunday's nature to be crippled though.

She watches the stone faced mare turn from the storm just as it threatens to crest and retreat to the shore, and Sunday follows suit. She knows the look of a woman deep in her thoughts. Nayl didn't want to be disturbed, at least not while staring into the abyss. Now? Sunday intercedes her path, falling into step with her.

"It's strange to watch the waves crest instead of feel the storm through the trees," she thinks out loud. "I wonder if I'll ever get used to it."

SUNDAY

never put your faith in a prince. when you require a miracle, trust in a witch