from the ashes, a fire will be woken | any

[Merida]

Merida

from the ashes, a fire shall be awoken

A girl - though not a girl, not really - approaches her. The ebony mare turns to face her with a slender and graceful turn of her head, the fiery tendrils of her mane and forelock framing her dark and angled face. Merida’s brows quirk upwards in amusement, though not in a way that is condescending. If anything, she is pleasantly surprised by the younger woman. She is muddied and dirty, her body a dark and slick brown compared to the muted gray of Nerine’s cliffs; she seems at home here, despite the wildness in her eyes that Merida’s fox clearly recognizes.

The onyx mare’s ears fall backwards passively, lifting her chin slightly. She is already missing her fox-skin, itching to bend the bones and reattach muscle or sinew in the blink of an eye. She feels unnatural in this equine body (trapped, weak), unpretty and undignified. There is no grace now that she has turned to face the girl, her hooves seeming too heavy for the thinness of her athletic legs. The freckles of red on her haunches and shoulders sparkle in the dim sunlight that attempts to filter through bruised clouds, making it appear as if embers truly burned on her muscled hide.

“Hello,” Merida replies, her voice rich as the dampened earth of the forest she calls home, though wistful. The sound of crashing waves drones onward behind them and Merida quietly wonders if it becomes mundane to hear it so constantly. The girl’s amber eyes meet the boiling red of Merida’s, and she wonders if she’ll turn away from their unique and disturbing color. “I’m Merida.” She pauses, a slight tilt of her head making her appear rather predatory, if one knew of the other animal spirit she shares a soul with. “I’ve heard whispers of this place in the forest. I’ve come to see what is true, and what is merely rumor.”

@[wishbone]