with weightless souls; alita

[isilme]

oh, i was reckless, once was breathless
but i’ve got a feeling and keep believing i’m never gonna give this back

She doesn’t recognize the stench of grief in Loess.
She is unfamiliar with the feeling of loss and profound sadness. Her life so far had been privileged, to be sure; surrounded by love and a full family. Her mother and father weren’t married (quite the opposite; they fought constantly), but they were both still good to her and Austra, and Isilme had never felt as though she was missing anything. She certainly hadn’t known death before—unless, of course, you count the insects and squirrels she enjoyed hunting.
She is disappointed when she doesn’t notice a shift in the air when she arrives in Loess. It’s just a land, like any other.
Isilme does, however, feel a shift when a girl lands in front of her with a devilish grin.

Surprisingly, it isn’t the first time that Spot has been threatened by being eaten. He is a companion to a lion, after all; one with a particularly aggressive attitude. “Obviously, I would’ve eaten him already if he was my lunch,” she says, the eye roll that follows automatic. “No, he’s my friend. This is Spot.” All he does is sigh loudly in response.
“I’m Isilme,” she says, studying the girl in front of her: blue and golden, haloed and sharp-toothed. She is graceful in ways that Isilme has never been—she is beautiful, yes, but rough. Everything she does is a little harder, a little more forced, but Alita is soft and smooth. Isilme’s eyes trace the curves of Alita’s back, her hips, before re-focusing on her wings. She shuffles her own wings, shifting her weight back and forth before blurting, “Can you show me how to fly? I haven’t learned yet.”

isilme