He has something of darkness and light within him and she is mesmerized by the way that they coil in his chest. She does not have words to explain what she finds so fascinating about it—whether it is the way that his talon dig into the earth or the halo that spins atop his head. She does not know that she has already inherited more than her mother’s healing touch and gentleness but also her inexplicable love of those with shadows in their heart. That she too will spend her days longing for those who carry them.
All she knows is she feels a gravity toward the boy and does not fight it.
Does not fight it even when she grows slightly bashful and shy before it.
“It’s not like yours,” she affirms in her soft voice, a corner of her dark mouth curving in the corner. She angles her horned head toward him and watches him, feels the curiosity blossom in her chest and then a nervousness that she would not be able to control her gift. It was still so new and although she has done her best to practice, she has not yet been able to stretch it to its limits—has not learned the edges of it.
Still, she cannot back down now and looking at his bright eyes, she doesn’t want to.
So instead she just smiles and nods. “Close your eyes okay?” It was easier when she didn’t have an audience—perhaps that is why she so prefers healing strangers from afar—but this was a new challenge. When she is certain that he is not looking, she takes a deep breath and hums lightly. It was easier sometimes when she felt that musical river run through her and she wades so deeply into her healing that she does not have a chance to be ashamed or self-conscious about it. Instead, she feels the golden light pool in and through her and then she directs it outward, sending it toward her newest friend.
It weaves through his youthful body—looking for whatever aches and pains it can—and she guides it with a gentle hand. When she is certain that there is nothing left for her to heal, she winds it back into her chest. She takes a steadying breath, feeling that slight sheen of sweat on her neck and then smiles.
“Okay. I’m done.”
as the vale in whose bosom the bright waters meet