Terran
It’s hard for her - I can see it so plainly on the conflicted panes of her dark face. I don’t begrudge her the feeling though, I personally have no idea how I would feel going through the experience of death only to be rudely awakened into a new life. All I know is that it was something short of a blessing that she’d not recovered her memories immediately; what a horrible shock it would’ve been.
But does that lessen the pain of them returning? I can’t know and, from her strained reply, it would seem heartache, disappointment, and regret were all just as fresh and unfortunate as the first time she’d lived through them. “I see.” I tell her in short reply, nodding solemnly while waiting patiently for her to continue. In a surprise turn Jinju draws nearer to me, flowing on legs that seem unsure but with a confidence I’d not seen in many years.
Her mouth, which had once stroked me with passionate longing and whispered things a child would certainly never say, still elicits the same jolt of unexpected electricity when it toys with my wings. “It was your playful fire that exposed them, that’s right.” I answer, smiling through the haze of worry and concern. It was touching that these were some of her newer memories - they were some of our best, before Ander had been born.
“I felt the same about you now that I did back then,” I chuckle softly, the gold of my gaze clashing with the red in her own, “I thought, I’ve never met a creature like her and I don’t think I ever will again, and that was true - so very, very true.” I tell her, extending my pale nose out to brush against her cheek.
“No matter what you remember, good or bad,” I say, almost in a rush with the urgency of telling her - she had to hear it, she had to understand - “you should always know that I love you, Jinju. I always will.”
All around these golden beacons, I see nothing but black
@[Jinju]