Across the sea
A pale moon rises
The ships have come to carry you home
Epithet
What is there to attack her here? She, vulnerable as she appears, is in no danger here. She twisted her face to view the male that stood before her a bit better, but she did not get up. Instead, she smiled—as best as she could—ringing the dulcet tones of her voice in his beautifully floppy ears. “Hello Vaughan. I am Epithet, and I assure you I have no fear of being taken unawares here. For as you see…” She paused, fluttered her crystalline wings, flashing rainbows across the meadow. Giving one great beat, a rush of wind went passed them both, as shards of those same wings directed outwards from her and around him, punching the ground with authority when they landed, before dissipating in a glittery cloud that rushed back up into the atmosphere. Looking back up at the dark man, she continued. “… It is not I who has anything to fear.”
She had the sneaking suspicion that he guessed her magical abilities when he’d walked up to her as warily as she did—no need to read his mind, it was as clear as the anxiety written upon his handsome face—but she assumed that what had once been supposition, was now fact. She flipped her tail, and turned back to gnaw on her finely curved rump to relieve an itch, before laying her wings on her back, tucking the ends as neatly as if they were made of feather—or cloud.
Epithet was beautiful and nobody’s fool, but for those who knew her—to be fair, there weren’t many left—they knew that had nothing to fear from her either. She glimpsed the warmth of the sunrise with a smile, and put away dark thoughts that might have once plagued her from the history of her mother. Truly, she had never really known Charlemagne, and had never met her father at all. But while there was something to fear from what she could do, there was nothing left to question what she would do.
She would always be tasked with doing the right thing, no matter how hard it would become.
“So, my dear Vaughan—what brings you to my company on this rather warm day? It cannot possibly be that out of everyone in this meadow, you would choose to introduce yourself to me prior to attacking me yourself? Are you as dangerous to me as the Crow is to the Dove?”