Solace
She is a child of the New World; she had been birthed into the warmth of Tephra's tropical confines and reached adulthood in the violet shade of Hyaline's wisteria trees. The Old Beqanna is nothing more than a story to her, distant and mythical as the wheeling stars overhead and the bottom of the churning ocean. It was a story to learn from - but little more. She had her own small collection of losses and disappointments to nurse when dawn was hard to find.
Solace's delicate face rises away from the meadow stream and she realizes she is not alone. The stranger who approaches her is hard to miss, his pale from sliding between the grasses in a way which lets her know he is at home here. She watches him boldly, but he does not change his path, and as he nears she lets her weight sink lazily into one hip.
"No," she answers, although her eyes sparkle in a way which insinuates yes. "I don't like the dark," she adds, further contradicting the half-smile she is giving the strange boy.
In the middle of the meadow, with droplets of moonlight reflecting off her pale feathers, she is nothing more than a girl far away from home - and the cheeky tilt of his head draws her closer. She licks her peachy-blush lips, removing from them the droplets of river-water which lingered there as she steps forward. One stride brings her just to the inside of what would generally be considered his personal space.
She doesn't give her name - it carries more weight than she wishes it did- and she doesn't want to be the poised queen now. But something about him, something distant in his gaze, makes her wonder if he would even be able to name one reigning monarch. He must be a wanderer, like Svedka, she thinks as the cool, dusky breeze brings her his wild scent.
"But I take it you are..."
caretaker of hyaline
@[Astrophel]
