If Isilya notices the blush, or the way Astrophel attempts to hide it, she gives no sign that she does. There is no waiver in her smile, nor in the happiness that is pulsing through her. If anything, that happiness might have just bounded a little higher - so utterly does she already adore this sweet boy. She has stars in her eyes, the stars inspired by his celestial name, and doesn’t even notice the length of the pause before he thanks her because she’s just so at peace that the little things like that aren’t important.
She is immediately grateful that Astrophel agrees with her that things have changed. Although it doesn’t chase away the sadness at what has been lost, she’s comforted by the fact that she’s not alone. That someone else, that he, her sweet and wonderful new friend, is mourning as well. The question he asks her was one that might have come from her lips in another moment so she is delighted to answer.
Her green-and-gold eyes take on a distant, hazy sort of smile as she thinks back to the world of her childhood. It’s buried under more years than she knows – so many birthdays had been missed and even more have been forgotten – but she’s been reaching for those memories so often lately that they emerge without difficulty. “I remember the mountains, mostly. I was born and grew up in the Dale, and I don’t think I explored outside of it very much. My entire family was in that kingdom, I explored the forests with my brothers and learned about the plants and flowers of the foothills from my mother.” Isilya knows her father was there too, from the soft warmth in her heart at the thought of him – the parent she most looks like – but too many years have passed for her to remember any lessons she might have learned from Tiphon in her youth.
Her attention re-focuses on Astrophel, and her smile brightens a little as she does. “I don’t suppose the Dale is hiding around here anywhere, is it?” She says it with a joking lilt, but it doesn’t quite overshadow the hope that swells in her at the thought. She wants the whole thing to be here but she would settle for a taste – for the silhouette of one familiar mountain, for the sight of gently rolling foothills and the way the water smelt when it cascaded in waterfalls down from the heights.
soft and sweet |
