; a vision softly creeping

[Aranea]

she watched them, content in her solitude, content in her silence. it had been her best friend and her closest companion and aranea lingered easily in such absence of sound and voice. it was a comfort, now, to have that familiarity, though she could not help but wonder how long it would last. would she soon see this silence as a hindrance? how could she possibly dream of reaching greatness without a voice to guide her? in the past there had been others. names and faces nearly lost to her. evrae, björk - the awe-inspiring pair that had given the queen a voice when the faeries had sought to strip her of it. they had saved her kingdom, or at the very least had saved her form a crumbling crown. without them she was lost. idly she wondered if the magic björk had cast upon the chamber still existed, if she would be able to cast her voice forth within the kingdom boundaries as she had so many years ago. would magic that strong simply disappear? would it weaken and fade and eventually vanish, as she herself nearly had? these are the musing of the voiceless shadow before her solitude is disrupted. at first she might be annoyed, though she masked it well when she turned towards the vaguely familiar figure. perhaps they had met, once upon a dream, but she is not bothered with any attempts to recall. instead she listened to his words and returned her orange-eyed gaze to the figures scattered before them, mere actors in a play. with a twitch of her lips she nodded in agreement. of course she did not (could not) speak and yet he seemed not bothered. he carried on with questions and assumptions - or, perhaps, like she, he could feel the immortality that cloaked her as it did him - and aranea remained in stoic silence. when his words finally lapsed and the quiet swelled once more she looked back to him, parted her lips and then closed them once more. she had no words to give him. even if she had, would she have had an answer? aranea did not know why she had returned, so perhaps in this moment her silence was a gift.