(She’s thinking of you, Brynn, as she looks at this opalescent woman. There is nothing of your sweet gold on her; there is nothing of your desolation in her lovely blue eyes. She is as different from you as you are from her. She’s thinking of you, though. Remembering a night when your green eyes bled to red, when your pretty mouth was stained with the blood of a (rightfully) murdered man and you painted it on her silver skin.
She’s remembering you, the way you drawled out a confession: ‘I am a killer, Aletta.’
Remembering the way she never thought it would happen and knowing the way she never doubted what she would do if you did: ‘And yet you still stand beside me.’)
Aletta remains where she stands - she doesn’t balk or shy away when the blue mare turns. The gray mare claims the ground she stands on and even if @[Sabra] were a hurricane, the mountains in her blood won’t allow her to yield. She is unmovable but she is not unfeeling to the tears streaming down her cheeks, wild and turbulent as any summer rainstorm. The dappled woman blinks but says nothing as the pegasus rants and raves - rages about monsters and death and a lost girl.
"I am very much alive,” the wanderer clips, as if the sharpness of the words would give her a more definitive shape (in case Sabra had wanted to doubt that Aletta wasn’t a corporeal thing). "As are you,” if the railing woman doubted herself.
Her dark eyes drop to the spear again - wondering if the injury might have lead to the affliction of the other woman’s mind - when the pegasus is snapping behind her, railing at the emptiness of a child that Aletta can’t see. That she doubts exists. (Which is worse?)
(She’s thinking of you again, Brynn. About your broken smile and your sad green eyes the first time she met you. She’s remembering the little girl you hadn’t asked for at your side.)
"Where should she go?” the gray mare asks, the mother in her prompted to inquire. Aletta asks this like she can see the phantom child hovering (and she certainly hears something, whispers she can’t quite make out that force her ears to almost pin) behind her, "Where would the girl go, if not with you?”