02-16-2019, 12:12 PM
living for the past
because the future's gone. praying in the dark that you won't go home. i should've said it better, i should've set fire to a letter. but i could run to your apartment, hope i get it started better than before; and i could write it in a poem, pretend i used to know you better than before.
The sight of Kagerus and Solace moving to greet her among the fresh snow and wild pine brings warm relief to Wishbone’s chest. Although Solace is only family through their father (and Kagerus bound with marriage rather than blood), the mahogany mare had still spent her childhood viewing her twin half-siblings as her true family. She had visited them in her young days, alongside Wound during a diplomatic visit, and she had visited them on her own accord in her older years. Among the trauma and sickness that Beqanna is undergoing, it puts Wishbone at ease to see their familiar faces.
Kagerus’ embrace is unanticipated but warm. Wishbone finds herself leaning closer, though a slender tendril of discontent wraps around her emotions at the feeling of her sister-in-law’s suppleness compared to her own ragged thin body. The mahogany is not who she was when she left Beqanna a few years ago — hell, she’s not who she was when she came to Beqanna only a season ago. “It’s good to see familiar faces,” she admits. Her tone is perhaps rougher than it normally should be; whiskey-rock from the sulfur of Tephra.
Indeed, Solace’s own embrace is equally reciprocated from the infection-weathered mare. “No, I’m not here from Nerine.” The kingdom had seemed to be quiet and sullen during the months she’d spent there before the grip of the plague and the swell of her pregnancy had forced her to settle in a nonspecific place of solitude. She knows little of the diplomatic intentions between the East and the North, but a slight smile finds her bone-narrow face at how Solace had assumed her allegiance to the kingdom in the north had remained. In truth, it does; yet Wishbone knows she is too weak to be productive to Breckin at this point.
“I did come to visit. I tried to find Father in Tephra, but his scent is gone… Have you seen him?” Her eyes dance toward the stretches of Silver Cove behind their shoulders. “And Svedka? Did he move with you from Hyaline?” Solace’s twin brother shares a kindred heart with Wishbone; the pair had always been daring each other to walk the line between sudden death and getting their asses beat by an angry family member. Worry begins to cloud the mahogany’s face at the absence of Svedka; surely he would have arrived if he’d caught her scent at the border.
Kagerus’ embrace is unanticipated but warm. Wishbone finds herself leaning closer, though a slender tendril of discontent wraps around her emotions at the feeling of her sister-in-law’s suppleness compared to her own ragged thin body. The mahogany is not who she was when she left Beqanna a few years ago — hell, she’s not who she was when she came to Beqanna only a season ago. “It’s good to see familiar faces,” she admits. Her tone is perhaps rougher than it normally should be; whiskey-rock from the sulfur of Tephra.
Indeed, Solace’s own embrace is equally reciprocated from the infection-weathered mare. “No, I’m not here from Nerine.” The kingdom had seemed to be quiet and sullen during the months she’d spent there before the grip of the plague and the swell of her pregnancy had forced her to settle in a nonspecific place of solitude. She knows little of the diplomatic intentions between the East and the North, but a slight smile finds her bone-narrow face at how Solace had assumed her allegiance to the kingdom in the north had remained. In truth, it does; yet Wishbone knows she is too weak to be productive to Breckin at this point.
“I did come to visit. I tried to find Father in Tephra, but his scent is gone… Have you seen him?” Her eyes dance toward the stretches of Silver Cove behind their shoulders. “And Svedka? Did he move with you from Hyaline?” Solace’s twin brother shares a kindred heart with Wishbone; the pair had always been daring each other to walk the line between sudden death and getting their asses beat by an angry family member. Worry begins to cloud the mahogany’s face at the absence of Svedka; surely he would have arrived if he’d caught her scent at the border.
@[Solace] / @[Kagerus]