04-07-2023, 11:28 PM
who could ever leave me, darling,
but who could stay?
but who could stay?
She feels the presence of Beyza just before she actually speaks, and while there are a multitude of reasons for why she might have sensed her so easily—nearly a lifetime of blindness that left her especially attuned to her surroundings, or perhaps a side effect of the magic that she had unknowingly stolen—she likes to attribute it instead to a motherly instinct. Though she had never considered herself a particularly good mother, she loved all of her children fiercely, and Beyza is no exception, even if the circumstances surrounding her creation were unusual. She had not carried her the way she had all of her other children, and she had not been born of corrupted romance, but she is hers all the same.
When she turns to fix her eyes on her daughter’s familiar face there is already a smile fitted to her lips, relieved that for once they are finding each other under mostly normal circumstances; Beyza is not trying to solve the mystery of why Este was on the brink of death during the eclipse, nor is she covered in Gale’s blood. “Beyza,” she murmurs her name, a motherly caress around each syllable as she reaches forward without hesitation to brush her nose against her cheek. “It’s good to see you.”
“A version of it, yes,” she says in response to her question, once again taking in the rugged peaks, limned by an alpenglow as the sun begins to slowly sink behind the mountain range. “This is the Dale. It’s not exactly as it was back when I was queen; at least, I don’t think it is. It’s been so long, I’m sure my memory of it isn’t reliable.” For over half her rule she had been blind anyway—her memory of the Dale is fractured and bloodied, with most of it cast into shadow. She remembered the sounds and the smells more than she remembered the mountains and meadows.
Looking back to the lake, she cannot keep the almost wistfulness from her voice when she says, “It reminds me of Hyaline, now. I guess I’m surprised by how much I miss that place.”
When she turns to fix her eyes on her daughter’s familiar face there is already a smile fitted to her lips, relieved that for once they are finding each other under mostly normal circumstances; Beyza is not trying to solve the mystery of why Este was on the brink of death during the eclipse, nor is she covered in Gale’s blood. “Beyza,” she murmurs her name, a motherly caress around each syllable as she reaches forward without hesitation to brush her nose against her cheek. “It’s good to see you.”
“A version of it, yes,” she says in response to her question, once again taking in the rugged peaks, limned by an alpenglow as the sun begins to slowly sink behind the mountain range. “This is the Dale. It’s not exactly as it was back when I was queen; at least, I don’t think it is. It’s been so long, I’m sure my memory of it isn’t reliable.” For over half her rule she had been blind anyway—her memory of the Dale is fractured and bloodied, with most of it cast into shadow. She remembered the sounds and the smells more than she remembered the mountains and meadows.
Looking back to the lake, she cannot keep the almost wistfulness from her voice when she says, “It reminds me of Hyaline, now. I guess I’m surprised by how much I miss that place.”
Ryatah
@
Beyza