i am dust and shadow; any

[Joscelin]

joscelin

She had never run, even when she should. And perhaps that is why she is broken. She hadn’t run, hadn’t fled from the black sorcerer. And now she is shattered. Shattered and pasted back together like a broken vase. Like a little pot of glue would solve everything. But it didn’t. It hadn’t. It never would. She would be broken forever. Because she hadn’t run.

Even now she does not run. She never has and she never will. And that will always be her downfall. But not today. She is still the broken girl, but she is stronger for it. She does not realize it yet, but the cracks scoring every inch of her body had added to her strength, not removed it. She is not a vase, not a broken piece of crockery. She is Joscelin. And she is strong and unafraid.

He is confident. Too confident. She’s not quite sure what to make of it. His body is cracked as much as hers is, but where she flickers, he burns. She can smell the burning. Not just him, but everything. The scent of it assails her nostrils, causing her pale muzzle to wrinkle in distaste. Her light burns, but it does not leave such a sour, acrid smell in the air. Such a smell lingers, coating the tongue and clinging to skin.

This does not drive her away, as it might another. As it should. But she does not run. No, she stays where she is, pale legs rooted to the earth. Her golden eyes, large and liquid, watch him. They are the eyes of a child. A hurting, angry child, but a child nonetheless.

She had been hunting. Hunting for something new, something dangerous. And she had found it. Without realizing it, or really even knowing what she was searching for, she had found it. The part of her that had been screaming with anger and failure and rejection grew satisfied with her find. But now that she has found it, found him, she wasn’t even sure what she wanted to do. So she gives him her name, just as he had given her his.

I am Joscelin.

And then she asks the question that had been plaguing her thoughts since she had first laid eyes on him.

Why are you on fire?

there's a song in your lung and a dream in your eye

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