06-22-2021, 09:37 PM
"Memorie," Lillia repeats back to the filly. The name evokes warm sensations and pleasant notions, bringing light to the inside of her eyelids and thoughts of spring and plenty to her mind. The name suits the girl, Lillia decides; in fact, she could imagine it no other way.
In the time between their brief introduction and Memorie's acceptance of Lillia's offer to heal her shoulder, the angel notices not the gentle incursion into her mind by the one opposite her; rather, she notices how the girl starts and moves her body to express some uncertainty. No matter, Lillia decides with a gentle thought; she had given her consent with no beguiling.
Not that Lillia could ever beguile anyone!
Inhaling, Lillia steps forward and reaches to press her nose against the filly's injured shoulder. Just before she makes contact, she looks up at Memorie (standing a full four hands above her despite her youth) and says:
"This will not hurt you."
And so it goes.
With her nose to Memorie's chestnut shoulder, Lillia closes her eyes and prays. To the everything from whence she came and to the nothing to which inevitably she must one day return; to the time in between that composes what she understands as this present corporealization. Around them, the meadow hums with life, grass waving, sky passing. The interaction lasts less than a minute and, true to her word, Lillia inflicts no pain upon the girl.
She makes no effort, however, to conceal the limp in her forelimb as she steps back, healing completed. A beatific smile colours her delicate expression despite the pain that radiates through her.
"There. How do you feel?"
In the time between their brief introduction and Memorie's acceptance of Lillia's offer to heal her shoulder, the angel notices not the gentle incursion into her mind by the one opposite her; rather, she notices how the girl starts and moves her body to express some uncertainty. No matter, Lillia decides with a gentle thought; she had given her consent with no beguiling.
Not that Lillia could ever beguile anyone!
Inhaling, Lillia steps forward and reaches to press her nose against the filly's injured shoulder. Just before she makes contact, she looks up at Memorie (standing a full four hands above her despite her youth) and says:
"This will not hurt you."
And so it goes.
With her nose to Memorie's chestnut shoulder, Lillia closes her eyes and prays. To the everything from whence she came and to the nothing to which inevitably she must one day return; to the time in between that composes what she understands as this present corporealization. Around them, the meadow hums with life, grass waving, sky passing. The interaction lasts less than a minute and, true to her word, Lillia inflicts no pain upon the girl.
She makes no effort, however, to conceal the limp in her forelimb as she steps back, healing completed. A beatific smile colours her delicate expression despite the pain that radiates through her.
"There. How do you feel?"