[open] Crowns of flowers on our heads; a n y

[Cyprin]

An old soul with young eyes, a vintage heart, and a beautiful mind Many would consider her reclusive, perhaps even narcissistic, because she rarely abandons the perch of her family’s cave in the western mountains. A fleeting sight, a rarity among the masses. Cyprin, on the other hand, merely considers herself shy. There is adoration when she wakes up in the mornings, surrounded by her kin. Most have wings that stretch exhaustedly with an accompanying yawn. She blearily blinks away the sleep and observes them each day but is often met with a reassuring glance from mother. They can all fly, she would sometimes mutter enviously to Nayl, but a mother’s warmth can always melt away insecurities. It’s why she remains among them, hidden from the world. They are kind and loving and complimenting. But they aren’t as fun. Each one of them wanders away to sate their own needs, leaving Cyprin alone at the mouth of the cave. With a dainty pout, she descends from the mountainside, utilizing a worn and rocky path. She is no longer such a gangly child. Beauty and maturity has blanketed across her bright eyes and youthful face and has elongated her legs and torso. The Mohawk and bottle-length tail she once had have since grown out and gracefully fall like silk. They lift with a frigid winter gale, rippling as she moves against the breeze to find herself, finally, among company. ”You’re very pretty,” she comments sweetly as her reptilian eyes flicker to a calming shade of blue, ”an embodiment of the season.” The ice encrusting the stranger’s locks catch the dappled sunlight and gleam like diamonds. It holds her attention for two long breaths before their gazes lock again. A honeyed smile lifts the edges of her mouth, a complimentary adornment to her introduction. ”I’m Cyprin,” her voice is velvet, softly spoken into the cold air between them. She knows, just by scent and observation, that the woman is not an inhabitant of Loess, but she doesn’t make an accusatory statement of it. Instead, she applies an amiable balm to their conversation, fascinated by winter’s daughter. ”Is there anything I can help you with while you’re in Loess?” Cyprin lior and nayl

picture by Jiamin Zhu on pinterest


@[Briella]