A veil of moonlight cradles her face against its palm, and it feels like home.
It feels like a touch that she used to know better than she knew how to breathe. Eilidh smiles for the memory that doesn’t make her ribs feel as though they’re going to collapse in on themselves; they are so rare. And now everything is quiet, with only the faint trickle of water and the gentle echoes of her words falling between them. Eilidh loves the night so much that sometimes she forgets that not everyone was the same, that some harboured fear in their hearts rather than gratitude when they saw the daylight dimming. Moselle came from the stars, and because of that Eilidh romanticized them in a way that most didn’t.
A light in the darkness.
Her light in the darkness.
So, she doesn’t mean to frighten the stranger. She doesn’t mean for her to move like she’s been set on fire; for her eyes to roll wide and white with fear. For a moment everything is wild with the jolt of her body and the splash of river water. For a moment Eilidh’s heart is racing, too - she can’t help herself, because the movements the stranger is making now mimicked those that Moselle made the last time.
At first Eilidh says nothing, she doesn’t want to make it worse, but then the other mare breathes: “No.” No, she doesn’t like the night. No, she doesn’t think that the stars are a light in the darkness. No. And Eilidh doesn’t argue, just waits for her to settle, and once she does Eilidh takes a gentle step forward so that the moonlight illuminates her entirely.
It isn’t over, though.
There are only a few quiet moments that exist between them before calamity strikes again.
A second stranger breaks into the clearing. He, like Eilidh, likely doesn’t mean to startle her - but he does. Because he comes from the darkest parts of the shadows, like a wraith. Though he flashes them both a crooked smile, his build is large and the gruff nod he extends then towards the pair of them is not particularly approachable. She can see the mare as she quakes in her bones, but Eilidh knows that the worst types of monsters could find you whether you were looking for them or not. When at last she settles again and the mare apologizes, Eilidh can only shake her head, softly.
“No, don’t be sorry,” Eilidh offers softly, with her head low and her eyes clouded with regret. “We shouldn’t have startled you.”
“I’m Eilidh.” She says, craning her head to look at both of them as she speaks.
“Would you like some company tonight?”
⤜ nobody's watching, drowning in words so sweet ⤛
@[Willa]
@[Leilan]