[open] walking heavy to the beat of a broken drum; any

[clementia]

It is like walking through a fever dream.
The shadows here make her dim, rob her of her glittering. She refracts no light, sheds no rainbows here. The glass hide is smooth, cool. And she smiles quietly to herself as she goes, careful, picking her way across roots and stumps. Hazards capable of shattering her should she let them.

There is a kind of seriousness here that she has never worn before. A silent reverence, an appreciation for the dangers here. Dangers she has never encountered before. She is young, Clementia, though her age is gauged by the water streaming down her sides. A steady drip when she emerged from her mother’s womb turned to a river now. Not capable of lending her flight yet, but an indication that she is older now than she was then.

She catches sight of him through the darkness. Such a peculiar thing. Kickstarts her heart. But she feels no fear as she sinks closer, a victim of her intrigue. Those galaxy eyes narrow in concentration when she stops several paces away. She has never seen anything like him.

She draws in a steady breath, tilts her head like fine china. Moves a little closer still, so horribly oblivious to the depths of danger here. “What are you?” A rude thing to ask, certainly, but the voice is so dreamy, lyrical, that it would be almost impossible to perceive it that way.

be still, my foolish heart
don't ruin this for me

C  L  E  M  E  N  T  I  A

@[creature]