consume me; any

[Kensa]

for every tyrant, a tear for the vulnerable
in every lost soul, the bones of a miracle

The shadows grow long and she knows she should be home. Night is waiting in the wings for curtain call, and she should most certainly be sweetly secure in Hyaline, but the world is bigger even than those mountains and the love she has for them. Sometimes hours and hours must be spent in pursuit of the mysteries of the world, obligations must be set aside in search of one singular and imperfect moment or another.

Tonight that moment is the sight as the last flare of sunlight burns The Mountain, turning it into a jagged molten tooth, Hyaline’s many splendored peaks glowing orange molars behind it. The light dies fast, slithering back, retreating away to the coast, beyond the reach of her eyes. The stars fill in the empty sky, infinite, making rivers in the blackness. Kensa admires those rivers as they weave through islands of dark clouds, unreachable. The field grows emptier as the night rises up around them until she at last notices that all the familiar faces have drifted away.

In the new darkness, blue and shadowed, the wandering Primarch’s eyes settle on the dappled mare who lingers here. She cannot know why this one has not gone off to bed or familiar haunt. Maybe this is as familiar a place as any to the other woman. Perpetual curiosity turns her pale hooves toward the mare, and she reaches out in greeting, bold but gentle. “It’s a beautiful night, if cold. I’m Kensa.” Far off in the woods, a creature calls to another of its kind. Ears flick, and she says. “Where do you come from?”

kensa

for every dreamer, a dream. we're unstoppable with something to believe in.

@[Oona]