Returning to Pangea had been a mistake, like so many other mistakes Cirilla has made in recent years.
Yadigar had been… different. How different, she wasn’t quite able to put her finger on. He had seemed colder and less welcoming than she knew of him - how was she to know that a magician had frozen over her sweet, kind brother’s heart? And the boy that had been with him - Sepulcher, she remembers, their brother - had shaken the scarred girl, though she had done her best not to show it. His gaping mouth-head-thing was frightening, to say the least, and there was no doubt in Ciri’s mind that Ghaul had sired the boy. For the first time in her life, she had been glad that she hadn’t inherited any of Ghaul’s oddities.
That Yadigar had so easily accepted Ghaul’s bastards after his death speaks volumes about the heart left in him, even with his personality so changed. She had wanted to cry and embrace her brother and never leave his side again but after their brief conversation, Cirilla had felt something tugging her along a different path, to the other territory where she had made her home for so long. The Cove. The black-sand beaches and the rolling hills and the cliffs along the ocean and the warm air and just… home.
She has been keeping to herself again, but she finds that here, she doesn’t feel as lonely. She finds comfort in the darkness because it hides her scars and hideousness away from general view. It is odd to her that the Silver Cove, named for the luminescent sands that twinkle under starlight, have lost their silver hue, but even still it feels like home.
And when she sees the rippling electricity just ahead of her in the darkness, it is as though one of the lurking monsters has wrapped its talons around her throat, for suddenly she can no longer breathe. “Tarte?” she manages to choke out, surprising herself when tears burn at the corners of her eyes. Stumbling forward, she raises her voice to catch the other woman’s attention. “Tarte!” she practically screams as her hoof catches on something - a large shell, perhaps - and sends her tumbling, but she rights herself and lunges forward again, tears streaming freely down her face as a wave of emotions washes over her, nearly pulling her under by the sheer strength.
“Tarte,” she cries softly as the two of them collide, and she cannot put words to all that she is feeling. She wraps herself up in the other mare, and though the light from her halo has dimmed, it is still bright enough for her molten gold eyes to meet blue, and there is nothing more she can say.
@[Tarte]
Yadigar had been… different. How different, she wasn’t quite able to put her finger on. He had seemed colder and less welcoming than she knew of him - how was she to know that a magician had frozen over her sweet, kind brother’s heart? And the boy that had been with him - Sepulcher, she remembers, their brother - had shaken the scarred girl, though she had done her best not to show it. His gaping mouth-head-thing was frightening, to say the least, and there was no doubt in Ciri’s mind that Ghaul had sired the boy. For the first time in her life, she had been glad that she hadn’t inherited any of Ghaul’s oddities.
That Yadigar had so easily accepted Ghaul’s bastards after his death speaks volumes about the heart left in him, even with his personality so changed. She had wanted to cry and embrace her brother and never leave his side again but after their brief conversation, Cirilla had felt something tugging her along a different path, to the other territory where she had made her home for so long. The Cove. The black-sand beaches and the rolling hills and the cliffs along the ocean and the warm air and just… home.
She has been keeping to herself again, but she finds that here, she doesn’t feel as lonely. She finds comfort in the darkness because it hides her scars and hideousness away from general view. It is odd to her that the Silver Cove, named for the luminescent sands that twinkle under starlight, have lost their silver hue, but even still it feels like home.
And when she sees the rippling electricity just ahead of her in the darkness, it is as though one of the lurking monsters has wrapped its talons around her throat, for suddenly she can no longer breathe. “Tarte?” she manages to choke out, surprising herself when tears burn at the corners of her eyes. Stumbling forward, she raises her voice to catch the other woman’s attention. “Tarte!” she practically screams as her hoof catches on something - a large shell, perhaps - and sends her tumbling, but she rights herself and lunges forward again, tears streaming freely down her face as a wave of emotions washes over her, nearly pulling her under by the sheer strength.
“Tarte,” she cries softly as the two of them collide, and she cannot put words to all that she is feeling. She wraps herself up in the other mare, and though the light from her halo has dimmed, it is still bright enough for her molten gold eyes to meet blue, and there is nothing more she can say.
@[Tarte]