Cordis sees the stallion and her teeth set on edge.
It is the curse of magic and love bound that she feels it, even a faint thread of the bloodline – of her. She’s met them before, the children or grandchildren, and each time had caused a certain ache, a twist of the heart (or hearts, later).
She barely sees it in him, but there’s something – the gold of him, maybe – and she knows. She feels a cry build in her throat, something wordless and agonized, but she swallows it down. She is sure this boy knows nothing of her, nothing of the gold woman who graces his lineage.
He speaks, and she is surprised, wonders if he can sense something to – if their blood calls to one another across generations. She almost smiles – a wrench of the lips – but it ends up as something pained.
He answers his own questions before she can, and she is glad, for what could she have said? I once loved a relative of yours in a way I will never comprehend, I would burn the world for her but she is gone and I am alone and I have not known kindness in a decade or more --
No. None of that.
“I’m Cordis,” she says, then, “you look a little like someone I once knew.”
What banality. Once knew. As if that were all it was – an acquaintance.
Maybe it would have been better, that way.
I’ll touch you all and make damn sure
Cordis
that no one touches me
@[Beelzebub]