She's got the devil's eyes
It’s terribly easy to allow time to slip away. A fact she understands far too well, especially when one is never aging and too often a silent observer. She has made her mark of course, but for so long now she has vastly preferred the role of watcher. Only now that puzzle pieces have finally begun to click into place has she truly stepped forward into the world. Bringing herself into a role far more visible than any she has held before (at least in this world, in this body).
In a way perhaps, she can understand the desire to run. To hide. And though she had never truly hidden herself away from the world or avoided it’s many tales and secrets, she had fled in the face of her own personal turmoil before. And any who ever claimed they might do otherwise stood on a cracked and trembling ground.
If there is anyone who might understand that the past does not always define the future, it would be her. It’s true, she has seen the same stories told over and over again, but just as often those stories take a surprising turn. It’s why she has never been able to give up this particular foible of hers why. Why she still watches, despite having done so for years.
It’s also how she knows of her return, stealing from the shadows to bring her presence once more into the kingdom in which Heartfire had so recently ascended the throne. She knows her, of course. Sarkis. Her aunt.
She approaches her with an ease born of practice and confidence. She had settled into her own skin a very long time ago, and such a foundation, once accepted, is nearly unshakeable. Especially before one who is family, despite the fact that they had never been what one might consider close. Sarkis may know little enough of her, but Heartfire had always had a habit of keeping an eye on those most closely related to her.
“Sarkis,” she offers by way of greeting as she settles nearby, blue eyes serene, sharply focused. Curiously perusing. “Welcome home.”
and they'll cut you like a weapon