08-08-2016, 08:58 PM
She is a princess of the Chamber, but it does not feel like home.
She is a princess of the Chamber, but only by blood.
Victra knows what it means to have a wandering heart, to love the people that live within, love the family it holds, but to feel nothing for the land, for the Kingdom herself. She does not like the heart that beats beneath her hooves, does not like how it drowns out her own, but she finds that the sound has grown softer lately, muted, though she is unsure why. There are too many trees, too much dark, and when the fog rolls in it makes her skin itch and prickle. She aches for the sky, for wide open places, and her wings are to blame for that – but the Chamber is not these things.
So she drifts, more and more often, finding excuses to leave the dark behind and bury herself beneath aching blue skies that stretch on for miles. Today she weaves quietly through the meadow, imagining the rolling green fields and the way they must be dappled with flowers as bright as gems during the summer months - though the only grass left now are the broken pieces that poke stubbornly through the glaze of snow-melt. Still, she thinks it must be beautiful here.
She almost misses the pale yellow girl where she stands nestled among the stone and dirt and snow at the lip of a creek, but the warmth in the smile she flashes Victra is enough to make the bay girl pause, enough to make her stop and turn and join the girl on the other side of the narrow vein of icy water. For a moment she says nothing, instead letting her eyes swallow the soft yellow of this strangers skin, and then sink back to the stream where the ice bounces and tumbles until it disappears around a soft bend. When he face lifts again and eyes of pale emerald settle into the delicate angles of an unfamiliar face, there is only quiet, only gentle curiosity in the smile that etches itself across the indigo of her mouth. “I love it here, it’s so peaceful.” A pause, a heartbeat, and then, “I’m Victra.”
She is a princess of the Chamber, but only by blood.
Victra knows what it means to have a wandering heart, to love the people that live within, love the family it holds, but to feel nothing for the land, for the Kingdom herself. She does not like the heart that beats beneath her hooves, does not like how it drowns out her own, but she finds that the sound has grown softer lately, muted, though she is unsure why. There are too many trees, too much dark, and when the fog rolls in it makes her skin itch and prickle. She aches for the sky, for wide open places, and her wings are to blame for that – but the Chamber is not these things.
So she drifts, more and more often, finding excuses to leave the dark behind and bury herself beneath aching blue skies that stretch on for miles. Today she weaves quietly through the meadow, imagining the rolling green fields and the way they must be dappled with flowers as bright as gems during the summer months - though the only grass left now are the broken pieces that poke stubbornly through the glaze of snow-melt. Still, she thinks it must be beautiful here.
She almost misses the pale yellow girl where she stands nestled among the stone and dirt and snow at the lip of a creek, but the warmth in the smile she flashes Victra is enough to make the bay girl pause, enough to make her stop and turn and join the girl on the other side of the narrow vein of icy water. For a moment she says nothing, instead letting her eyes swallow the soft yellow of this strangers skin, and then sink back to the stream where the ice bounces and tumbles until it disappears around a soft bend. When he face lifts again and eyes of pale emerald settle into the delicate angles of an unfamiliar face, there is only quiet, only gentle curiosity in the smile that etches itself across the indigo of her mouth. “I love it here, it’s so peaceful.” A pause, a heartbeat, and then, “I’m Victra.”