look at the stars,
look how they shine for you
Sometimes, I walk the frozen landscape of Icicle Isle and forget that its winter isn't my doing; sometimes, I am surrounded by a skyfall of snow and forget that it is. When I first came to the abandoned herdland, I was struck by its emptiness. And I was drawn to it. Perhaps a life of isolation isn't what my parents wanted for me, but it's the life I know. I've never really had anyone except mother and father -- besides Rhy, though until recently I wouldn't have said I had her, either. With all that we've been through, we aren't sisterly as others are, but we do care for one another. I know that. And for different reasons, I know that we both regret the childhoods we forced upon each other. The rift that had separated us since birth was not something we chose; Rhy didn't choose the electric, and I didn't choose the fear. But it was there from the beginning, and only now that the ice in my veins serves to strengthen my butterfly-heart have we been able to start choosing differently.
Still, there's something about being alone that comforts me now like never before. I used to need someone else's strength to survive (the strength of mother's sunshine and father's understanding) but now I have my own. I breathe, and frost comes forth. I sigh, and a hailstorm lives. I shift, and so does the snow -- a shadow of my every move, an extension of my will. More than that, though, it is a part of me. Just like Rhy's electric is a part of her. And sometimes, the whiteness of my snow reminds me of the whiteness of her lightning. Perhaps we're more alike now than we've ever been.
It's easy to lose track of time on my own, especially in the north where seasonal changes are already subtle; and with my own winter influencing the climate, the passing months are even less distinguishable. Recently though, I've noticed the days becoming longer and I find myself wandering south out of simple curiosity. How long have I been here? I pass the old border of the herdland into greener places, and to my surprise I keep going. The growing heat makes me feel a little nauseous at first, but once the air around me cools and the icy armour that covers my body thickens instinctively, I feel better. It's a wonder how colourful the world can be. The flowered fields and forested hills remind me of the wilderness outside of Beqanna where I'd been raised -- and I think of mother and father, a small hope in my heart as I wonder when I'll see them again.
A sudden flash across the horizon startles me. I look up. The skies are clear and cloudless. That can't be a storm. Yet a second bolt follows, and though my once-winged heart remains still, deep inside I feel an old twinge -- one that will never completely fade for as long as I live. Years ago, I wouldn't have dared to walk toward the lightning. The fear would have taken control. But now that I have powers of my own, I recognize this for what it is: someone, or something is influencing the weather.
Maybe it's Rhy.
So I walk toward the lightning.
It's uncanny to have found each other like this, but isn't that always how it is? When I see her across the meadow, I let the snowfall that follows me melt away. “Rhy,” I say with a smile as we come face to face. The heat makes the ice of my armour glisten as I gesture to the stormless skies. “I had a feeling that was you.” While sisterhood might not come as naturally to us, I am happy to see her -- until I notice that something's missing. “Your tattoos,” I murmur, a mixture of concern and confusion furrowing my brow. My eyes glow light-blue as I inspect her a little more closely. I don't see the red slash of a traitor across her chest, but why else were they gone? “What happened?”
What have I missed?
kora
the winter girl of riagan and rayelle
