clarity, paint me bright like stars in the dark of night
Time had come to mean something to Hawke.
She studied it, appreciated it, began to think on its general relativity. She came to abhor sleep because she felt that she was wasting it, and didn’t ever want to find Time again and have to explain herself to him. To tell him she had not appreciated the moments he had given her, the things that were so precious to Her. So she often wandered away from Tephra, spending her hours discovering new crannies, running until the air went from her lungs, until her legs were weak from exhaustion, but her eyes burning bright with joy.
Over time, her body began to blossom, the youth beginning to bleed away to be replaced by the beginning of womanly curves. She was not particularly beautiful, not in the traditional sense, although she was plenty pleasing to look at. What was beautiful about her was the wildness in her eye, her voracious appetite for life. She was not beautiful in the way of delicate lace or gentle smiles. She was as beautiful as roaring waterfalls and vast sierras and unexplored canyons. She was beautiful in the way of an eagle’s deft swoop or a hare’s headlong race. She was beautiful in the way of the wild.
As she ran through the Forest, she thought on the gifts Time had given to her. Gifts that had taken time to manifest but were now rooted in her, blossoming in her chest. She did not have strange magick; she could not command the sea or take to the air, but there was a supernatural grace to her movements. She ran faster than her body should have allowed, ran for longer than was possible. Imbued with Time’s gifts, and buoyed by the constant love given to her family, she saw the world with new eyes, new strength.
When she saw him, the purple stark against the ice of his coat, she found herself slowing and then angling toward him, her hazel eyes studying him unabashedly. She came too close, fearless as she breathed him in, her breath still coming in deep gasps. “I don’t often see many here in the middle of the night.” She gave him a wide, honest smile, her youthful face clear, her neck slick with sweat. “My name is Hawke.”