04-20-2021, 09:49 PM
The mare softens and the guilt and shame that had polluted Basilica’s bloodstream begins to dissipate, scattered by the dark mare’s reassurance. Basilica almost manages a stilted smile, her lilac eyes uncertain as the taut muscles begin to unravel and she begins to relax.
But the peace does not last long before her stars wink out and panic seizes her again. And she thinks of her dream thing and how he’d given her the stars and how she must get them back. Orville. Orville.
The stars do not mean as much to Basilica as they do to this mare. She was not born with them, they were not born with her. Basilica has never belonged to the sky and the sky has never belonged to her. But they had been a gift from her dream thing and she cannot afford to lose them and her panic threatens to choke her as she searches the darkness for any sign of them.
But they’re gone, just like the dark mare’s stars are gone, and her heart pounds relentlessly in the narrow space at the base of her throat. She is so distracted by her worry that she does not hear the rustle in the nearby bushes until the mare speaks and she abruptly stills, turning to face the source of the noise. The dark mare has wedged herself between Basilica and the sound and Basilica feels a sudden rush of fondness for this stranger.
She may look like a soft thing, Basilica, but she had spent hours bleeding at the edge of the river after a monster had dipped its greedy fingers into her flesh and feasted on whatever it found. She shakes her head gently and takes a step toward the sound until the two of them are standing shoulder-to-shoulder. She draws in a long breath, steeling herself. A sense of calm washes over her because she is not afraid of this, not anymore. (Not the same way she had been afraid of never finding the stars that she had lost so suddenly.)
“I won’t leave you,” she says and then sets her jaw.
She is not all that brave, Basilica, but she is kind.
But the peace does not last long before her stars wink out and panic seizes her again. And she thinks of her dream thing and how he’d given her the stars and how she must get them back. Orville. Orville.
The stars do not mean as much to Basilica as they do to this mare. She was not born with them, they were not born with her. Basilica has never belonged to the sky and the sky has never belonged to her. But they had been a gift from her dream thing and she cannot afford to lose them and her panic threatens to choke her as she searches the darkness for any sign of them.
But they’re gone, just like the dark mare’s stars are gone, and her heart pounds relentlessly in the narrow space at the base of her throat. She is so distracted by her worry that she does not hear the rustle in the nearby bushes until the mare speaks and she abruptly stills, turning to face the source of the noise. The dark mare has wedged herself between Basilica and the sound and Basilica feels a sudden rush of fondness for this stranger.
She may look like a soft thing, Basilica, but she had spent hours bleeding at the edge of the river after a monster had dipped its greedy fingers into her flesh and feasted on whatever it found. She shakes her head gently and takes a step toward the sound until the two of them are standing shoulder-to-shoulder. She draws in a long breath, steeling herself. A sense of calm washes over her because she is not afraid of this, not anymore. (Not the same way she had been afraid of never finding the stars that she had lost so suddenly.)
“I won’t leave you,” she says and then sets her jaw.
She is not all that brave, Basilica, but she is kind.
@[Ciri] no sweat!!! they can either have one last showdown with a monster or be saved by the sun!! up to you!! (: