Larke,

[larke]

carried by the current of the morning
miles below the surface of the dawn

Even though it has been several weeks since her father has handed the island over to her, Larke still does not feel much of a ruler. There is nothing within her that beats in time with the need for power. She does not hunger for it or dream of it and often finds herself wondering how she has even ended up in this situation in the first place. Still, her quiet heart has learned to love the island for all of its wild beauty.

There is so much of its tropical nature that remind hers of home, but it is still entirely new to her.

She finds herself walking the beaches at night, enamored with the fluorescent blue.

She finds herself learning the paths that cut through the thicker vegetation during the day.

Today though, she is near the beach when she sees the young stallion touch down on the sand. Interested, she pauses, angling her find head and studying him with clear, sage green eyes. Flowers blossom down her neck and along the curved ridge of her neck, and she stands like that for a moment—still and quiet.

Then, she remembers that there is no one who is going to greet him beside her. She is the leader now, and she shakes her head as if unable to believe it. Smiling though, she moves forward from the shadows of the trees and the trunks, her face a study of curves. “Hello there,” she smiles lightly, walking closer until she is just a few feet away. She feels the wind pull her forelock away from her horn and she dips her head.

“My name is Larke,” another smile as she tilts her head. “What brings you to Ischia today?”

this is not the place that I was born in
but it doesn't mean it's not the place where I belong

larke

@[Badden]