will you rail against your dying day; isilya

[Isilya]

Later, of course, Isilya would like to think that she had drifted towards this river because her heart felt the tug of another plant magician, another whose soul sang the same sweet song as hers. That wasn’t the case, of course. She was only exploring, only attempting to re-learn the land of Beqanna and all the strange-yet-familiar places within it. Sometimes, she swears she sees a tree that calls to her memories. It’s been twenty years since she was last here and Beqanna has gone through some harsh, radical changes. Isilya doesn’t feel the weight of those years, she spent many of them in a haze - lost and living as a tree for some of them, she spent an entire year rooted to a spot just so she could watch a den of fox kits grow and blossom before her eyes. The land doesn’t seem to feel the weight of those years either - it’s been refreshed sometime between now and then. Does it remember the battles and the blood? Does it remember the sweet words whispered under starry skies not unlike this one? Isilya still has hope that it does, still hopes that her Beqanna is still somewhere to be found here, and she’ll keep searching for it. Well, not tonight though. Although Isilya’s heart and mind are easily lots in the trees and roots, plantlife will always come second to the company of her own kind. She’ll shift from a wistful dreamer to an excited puppy as soon as she realizes she's no longer alone. Tonight something more important than trees has certainly stumbled across her path - a beautiful winged mare. Isilya was moving forward before she felt it, like a gentle tug on her heart. She never knew any of her siblings and she wonders now if this is what it would’ve felt like, an instant kinship with someone. She’s intoxicated by the sweet scents that the mare sends her way but the white and gold mare doesn’t really need any more of an invitation. Her pale tail drags gently across the ground as she moves forward before stopping, just  a little closer than what is probably polite. She’s just too excited! “You’re like me.” Isilya breathes into the night air, her green-and-gold hazel eyes absolutely dancing with excitement and love. She knew there were other magicians, of course - she had stumbled across a few in her youth - but this is so different in takes her breath away. As if she needed to prove herself, the vines along Isilya’s spine shift and the soft snow-white flowers that bloomed there are replaced with rich purple wisteria that drape in thick bunches. The woody vines continue to twist and turn, forming a set of dragonfly wings with soft iridescent membranes connecting the vine framework. They flutter a few times before settling at Isilya’s sides, her expression shining and warm. “It's so wonderful to meet someone else! I’m Isilya.”

art by darya87

@[leliana]