03-01-2020, 05:49 PM
she fell for the idea of him
and ideas were a dangerous thing to love
and ideas were a dangerous thing to love
She had known almost immediately that there was something different about Agetta’s one daughter. She had gone soon after they were born, and though the twin girls were both white and lovely, there was something strange about the one they named Beyza. When she had looked at her newborn face, still fresh and innocent, she had felt her heart lurch in her chest – the same way it did when she looked at her newborn children. A stolen sideways glance to Anaxarete had confirmed her suspicions, and though she had said nothing, there was a nearly imperceptible shake of her head. She didn’t care what the shadow queen chose to do with her magic – but she was afraid the truth would upset Agetta, and so she kept it to herself.
From where she stands she can see the bright white filly as she wanders across the meadow, and for a moment Ryatah simply watches her, her own figure bathed in the afterglow of the golden sunrise. She debates letting her continue on her way, but she also thinks Agetta wouldn’t be thrilled if she knew she had seen her daughter alone in the meadow and she hadn’t intercepted her.
“Beyza,” she calls to her as she approaches, the autumn sun glinting off her gold-tipped wings. With a smile on her pale lips she draws herself alongside the young girl, reaching out to touch her nose to the top of her neck before asking her, “Does your mother know you’re out here? And where’s your sister?” As if Ryatah has ever kept track of her own children once they outgrew the gangly newborn stage, but, she has always been one of the world’s sweetest hypocrites.
From where she stands she can see the bright white filly as she wanders across the meadow, and for a moment Ryatah simply watches her, her own figure bathed in the afterglow of the golden sunrise. She debates letting her continue on her way, but she also thinks Agetta wouldn’t be thrilled if she knew she had seen her daughter alone in the meadow and she hadn’t intercepted her.
“Beyza,” she calls to her as she approaches, the autumn sun glinting off her gold-tipped wings. With a smile on her pale lips she draws herself alongside the young girl, reaching out to touch her nose to the top of her neck before asking her, “Does your mother know you’re out here? And where’s your sister?” As if Ryatah has ever kept track of her own children once they outgrew the gangly newborn stage, but, she has always been one of the world’s sweetest hypocrites.
ryatah
@[Beyza]