I should have loved a thunderbird instead
at least when spring comes they roar back again
Aegean has never known cruelty—true cruelty—in his life.
He had been born of love and cradled between the bosoms of his mothers. He had been given every single opportunity that he could have ever wanted; he had been loved and adored and given the freedom to explore. Even when his family had experienced the hiccups and heartache that is so common these days, he had been hardly scratched by it. He had been old enough, and enraptured by his own world enough, that he had not minded when his family had been scattered to the wind—when he was left alone.
So he does not know what she has experienced.
He has no way of sympathizing.
Still, when he is wandering and sees the familiar flash of green, he approaches with that same dreamy smile. And when he sees where the skin has been scorched, where her body bears the marks of some form of unspeakable violence, he can hardly comprehend it. “Evenstar?” her name comes out as a question in his silver bell voice. It rings off the tip of his tongue and he watches as the faint glow catches on her.
For a second, his breath catches in his throat, and he dips his antlered head, trying to sort through who would ever have it in them to lay waste to the girl by his side. He has never felt such urges—nor been on the receiving end of them—and they are completely alien to him, completely otherworldly.
But he has no desire to say such things, to draw attention to it.
So instead he offers her the hold thing that he can. He presses his shoulder lightly against her own, brushing against the undamaged skin, and then he pulls on his gift to gently start painting illusions. It is a quiet fall of stars—one of his favorites—that slowly envelop them, their music quiet and sweet.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead
(I think I made you up inside my head.)