she’s got jumper cable lips
she’s got sunset on her breath. now i inhaled just a little bit, now i’ve got no fear of death
The ocean is as familiar to her as the sound of her father’s voice. Whether in Tephra or Nerine, whether a southern ocean or a northern one, the waves are always rolling in a rhythmic dance to the song the moon sings. Sometimes Wishbone thinks she can hear that song, high in the sky among the constellations and the empty blackness of the night, and her feet will dance with the waves to the meter of the tides. She isn’t the only one of Beqanna to fall for the depths of the sea or the uniqueness of the shoreline and she certainly won’t be the last.
Wishbone finds her Idrilat looking out from atop a high perch, where the granite cliffs still remain among the hardy beach-grass and rocky shoreline. An autumn breeze rolls across her shoulders and further entangles her dark locks as the Khaleesi comes to a stop beside Breckin. The horizon rests in the far distance, a thin line between endless sea-depths and endless sky-heights. While Wishbone would certainly plunge to the lowest point of the ocean if she were physically capable, she must limit herself to nearly drowning in other ways.
Her eyebrows raise beneath the mass of her forelock (scents of sea-spray and wind-scrubbed skies linger on her skin and in the knots of her hair) when Breckin mentions having no plans. Wishbone doesn’t fault her; she’s only been a Leviathan for a few moments and the Idrilat for even fewer. “There’s no harm in that,” she reassures. Although Beqanna is on the brink of war, the diplomatic aspect of their kingdom is secure within the relationships of the Allies. “A meeting sounds like a great idea. I’d also like to possibly see some beginner-level warrior training… I don’t want our diplomats going out to the hostiles with no experience to protect themselves.” The Leviathans are strong, among other things, and they shouldn’t have weak-willed diplomats who must hide behind the strength of a warrior.
Wishbone’s amber gaze follows Breckin’s down to the sliver of shoreline below. The pair of Nerinians walking along the shore are too vague to make out and thus her eyes turn back toward the horizon. It’s a crisp blue sky, despite the threat of winter hanging over their heads, and a pleased sigh drifts from Wishbone’s mouth. She feels her wild spirit settle under the weight of the crown, as though it were a heavy blanket to still her restless thoughts.
Another smile, as strong and relieving as a cool breeze on a hot summer day, drifts over Wishbone’s mouth at her friend’s — the Khaleesi, at least, considers Breckin a friend — suggestion. There haven’t been very many Leviathans seeking out her presence and daring to get to know the young queen and it brings excitement to her heart that Breckin might. A pang of nostalgia pierces her chest for a bittersweet moment; the Idrilat’s suggestion is exactly the type of thing her father might’ve said in his youthful days before the crown of Tephra.
Nonetheless, Wishbone settles easily into a casual position, her adventurous gaze finding Breckin’s own. “I was born in Tephra and spent my first year there until the foal exchange happened.” Memories of ashen tropics and soothing hot springs cascade through her mind like falling stars but she doesn’t dare grab for them, merely watching as they drift smoothly past. “I’ve always had a thirst for adventure” — it’s something she’s always shared in common with her brother — “and when my father, Warrick, offered the opportunity to me, I didn’t hesitate.” She seems to come back from the realms of her mind, eyes scanning their surroundings.
“I don’t regret one bit of it.”
wishbone
@[Breckin]