Lo does not know how she could possibly make a promise to flee should Gale come to the isle. She doesn’t think it is in her to abandon someone who matters, thinking of it, picturing leaving Ciri to danger is crueler than anything else she can imagine just now. She hates the thought of letting the star-trailed mare die for her even more. “I promise.” She whispers, not sure if she is even heard. Ciri’s breathing has just become even and slow, her body heavy with sleep. Leokadia hopes no dreams disturb her there as she turns her eyes toward the mouth of the cave, and after a long while drifts into her own rest, her mind on the edge of wakefulness but her body more comfortable than it has ever been, even there on the cold granite.
They sleep in their cave together on the nights they are both at home. Sometimes Leokadia roams, sometimes Ciri does. It is their place, where they can comfortably curl together and rest, or shelter from a storm. Lo is learning how to live on the isle, growing her thick winter hide, but she likes to range to warmer climates and bring back things to tuck into their cave. Feathers of cream and black peek from among dry grass, the odd leaf, sprigs of lavender snatched from the south before the winter fell. There are other things too. Tucked in the corners of the cave are pretty rocks, a huge pinecone from the Taiga, the tooth of some long-dead sea monster, a conch carried up from the beach. Leokadia has never had a home before, and now that she does she makes it a place for the things that make her feel something, contentment, awe, curiosity. She probably looks like a strange pale raven bringing home bundles of grass or glittering treasures and tucking them away.
She has not yet introduced herself to any of the others here and avoids them when they try to get near. It is not that Leokadia is shy, far from it, she just wants to watch everyone a while longer and make sure she knows how to be just Leokadia around anyone but Ciri.
Lo tries not to test the strength of that tension that spools up between them so often. She knows that sometimes her touch lingers too long when they groom or rest against one another and when she feels she has been too much she tries to leave Ciri alone for a day or two. The cremello pegasus is uncertain if she does this for her own or her friend’s benefit.
She wakes alone this morning, as she had been when she went to sleep. Stretched out on her side, her wings a haphazard disarray around her lithe body. A downy black feather clings to her face, and shaking it away she stumbles to her feet and out of the cave. The sun has risen but hangs above the still orange horizon, round and white and much too bright. Blinking just outside the cave, Leokadia tries to grow accustomed to the light, certain that she sees Ciri just a little ways off.
@Ciri and actually for Ciri hahaha
