02-15-2016, 03:26 PM
 She had disappeared. Just like that. Like nothing Lilin had ever seen before. Not like when brother had changed, because he had never really disappeared. Or, maybe for a second… quicker than her mortal eyes could ever hope to see. And then he was different in every way. But still here… His transformation had been mighty frightening. But complete and utter erasure from this world? That is scarier by far. Scarier by far because she can at least conceive of beasties, with their claws and sharp dentition, but not of this. This fell beyond the realm of her imagination, wild as it is. Weaver had been gone in a blink, with no mote of weird particles left falling to the dust where her feet had been – no shadow cast, lingering on the ground, to entertain the idea that she had ever been in that spot at all. The blue girl had spooked back, her ears pressing tight against her neck. “W-W-Weaver?” she whispered, rattling out of her tight throat. Then, the bird had swooped low, dove straight down with a panicked caw. She screeched and turned, ducking into the tangled thicket. And, there she stayed, growing cold in the clutch of damp shade, but unable to move. She wasn’t sure why, because everything told her to find mother. To find brother. To go back to that pinewood and pretend as if she had never seen a thing. But she stayed hunkered down, peering out between tall grass and blackberry bushes, breathing hard and feverishly turning that moment over and over in her head. Once or twice, a great, noisy unkindness of ravens flew above, their croaks and haws coming together like a knot in her stomach. One landed, stirring up dust and loose, dry grass. It’s beady eyes searched the ground with jerking movements. Then, she swears, it had looked straight at her. Held for a moment before taking wing again. The ravens stopped coming in big, black clouds. Appearing now and then in single, wicked flights instead. The fear unraveled itself, in time – replaced by a sort of churning between curiosity and worry. She shifts and steps slowly (carefully, quietly to avoid inciting those terrible birds) from the now deepening shadows and into some warmth. She has kept vigil, she thinks, because at any moment… well, Weaver could come back. ‘Sister!’ Lilin turns her head, wary and unsure if she even wants to respond – but the young do not play in indecision, or at least, she does not. It takes only a second. A conflagration of inquisitiveness and without thinking she moves towards the voice. “Weave...” she calls out, and then the gap is closed and the blue girl’s brow furrows and the tail end of her name is caught behind the clenching of Lilin’s teeth. She wants to ask her what has happened. She thinks, for a moment, that she has seen something like this (but not... nothing quite like this). Smelled something similar but she cannot quite recall. “It’s just ‘sister’...” she mutters, her little hooves shifting anxiously, drawing concerned little circles and lines. “So, are you... okay?” She does not look at the queer glyph on her chest. Actively avoids looking at it, in fact. Michealis and Aurane’s ****Steps taken forwards, but sleepwalking back again. Dragged by the force of some inner tide. |