10-05-2020, 09:32 PM
a little white light in a
sea gone black
sea gone black
≋
The stallion is so cheerful upon recognizing the pearlescent woman and in that moment Oceane wishes so terribly that she could match his tone. Truly, she would have, were the corners of her mouth and the muscle of her heart not weighed down by a hundred thousand stones. Blue had offered her kindness upon their first meeting in the Field even after she had nearly brushed him away - a product of what had been her recent history, but she has softened since those days - and then kindness again upon her arrival to his shores. He had never asked for anything in return, and here she is again, soured.
He makes mention of the scorched foothills and she joins him in peering over the nearby land. Spring had been kind; it had rid them of the scent of smoke and had carried away the ash in its excessive rains. It had brought new life, though not enough to begin to mask the destruction. Oceane is hopeful for the coming year.
She has debated a journey to the Mountain, but the stories she has heard of the fairies remind her of Nau-Aib's arithmancers, and the opaline woman is unsure of whether that is a similarity she wants to delve into just yet.
“Gale,” she repeats as she turns her honey-colored eyes back to the brindle stallion. There is a familiarity behind the name; she knows she has heard it before but can't quite place where. Perhaps, she thinks, she is mistaken. “That sounds like a story I would like to hear sometime,” she tries her hand at a warmth that she knows would be genuine in any other circumstances.
But it's so hard to drudge up the energy when Lepis -
Lepis.
A quiet gasp falls from her maw at the realization. Her eyes collide with his and for a long moment she simply stares as her golden eyes well with tears.
“You are Lepis' boy,” she whispers through her tightening throat, but can't muster much else before she's forced to clench her teeth lest a sob find its way from within her.
He makes mention of the scorched foothills and she joins him in peering over the nearby land. Spring had been kind; it had rid them of the scent of smoke and had carried away the ash in its excessive rains. It had brought new life, though not enough to begin to mask the destruction. Oceane is hopeful for the coming year.
She has debated a journey to the Mountain, but the stories she has heard of the fairies remind her of Nau-Aib's arithmancers, and the opaline woman is unsure of whether that is a similarity she wants to delve into just yet.
“Gale,” she repeats as she turns her honey-colored eyes back to the brindle stallion. There is a familiarity behind the name; she knows she has heard it before but can't quite place where. Perhaps, she thinks, she is mistaken. “That sounds like a story I would like to hear sometime,” she tries her hand at a warmth that she knows would be genuine in any other circumstances.
But it's so hard to drudge up the energy when Lepis -
Lepis.
A quiet gasp falls from her maw at the realization. Her eyes collide with his and for a long moment she simply stares as her golden eyes well with tears.
“You are Lepis' boy,” she whispers through her tightening throat, but can't muster much else before she's forced to clench her teeth lest a sob find its way from within her.
@[Gale]
“”
“”
i must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
and all i ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by
and all i ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by