she’s got jumper cable lips
she’s got sunset on her breath. now i inhaled just a little bit, now i’ve got no fear of death
The sun warms her back as she walks along the shore. Her thoughts swirl within her mind, as shifting and restless as the waves that taunt her feet. On any other day, Wishbone might tease them back — running toward their seafoam crests only to dance away when they come rushing forward to kiss her heels — but the weight of her thoughts press too heavily for her to twist as lightly as she might’ve any other day.
With the oncoming presence of her coronation, the crown has been lingering in the back of her mind. She isn’t scared to stand in front of the Leviathans and pledge herself to them, but she does worry if she will be a good queen. There’s a difference between being a queen and being a good queen, something she’s learned by watching her father and sister rule. Nerine deserves to have a good queen, not just a queen, and these are the ideas that plague her.
When her name rides into her ears on a beachfront breeze, Wishbone pulls herself away from her hazy mind. She feels thick for a moment, dragging herself from her inner thoughts and back to the outside world. The mahogany mare realizes she’s stopped walking on the shore and she stands knee-deep in the waves, looking out over the watery horizon.
It doesn’t take her very long to reach the appaloosa mare and by the time she comes to a halt, she is still damp — though not soaking — from the northern ocean. A smile finds her sable mouth. She recognizes the mare from the last Nerine meeting. “It’s Porcia, right?” Her honey-whiskey voice is friendly, despite the pressure of her thoughts in the back of her mind.
wishbone
@[Porcia]