The morning wind has a bite to it, and the rich flavor of night. Her eyes close against the drying cold as the gusts change directions again and she realizes she's forgotten to blink. Too mesmerized by the glowing savage edges of the waves clawing at the rocks. Kensa's lashes are heavy and sweep down to her cheeks, dark against the white and gold-dust that frames them. They remain that way for several breaths, so that the waves become louder, crashing, rushing, whispering. Like feathers.
Orange and black, abalone and grey. The sky and the sea coming together and pulling apart as the sunrise shows her where the horizon has been hiding. It is new again even though it is probably the same as yesterday. Or maybe it isnt, maybe that rounded edge of everything is just a little closer today. A little more in reach. She could go out there.
Just send herself into the middle of that line between sea and sky and see...
Its doesn't make her sad that she'd just want to look at this spot from out there. Home. Absently she turns her head to look over her shoulder at the city of dark trees, to imagine how they would seem from way out there.
Brigade is a blued version of himself, dark with sweat and not yet illuminated by the creeping morning light. Their world is still dark enough, the brightest of the stars winking through the crumpled clouds. She knows the color of him better than she knows her own, but she likes him in this half-morning light. Kensa does not look away from Brigade, she knows her shame belongs only to her and she wont give it to him to clean up. Her gold trimmed ears are pricked but otherwise her posture is relaxed. She does not go to him but stands as she has been, giving him room to join her or continue on his way.
"Good morning, Brigade." Her silvery voice is soft but not whisper. The wind pulls her mane across and about her face, twists her tail around her cannons, and drags her words out to sea. I've thought of you... they say, but she does not. He's already gotten free and she cannot bring herself to trap him again. Even though seeing him again gives her a strange drunken feeling, unreality and longing settling together in her in her belly and joints so that she is sinking and adrift.
@[brigade]
