The forest is quiet at night, which is how she prefers it. She loves the muted sounds of her hours—the way that time seems to soften into a silver river. It’s a kinder passing of time. A gentler way of living. It is the only way that Cressida truly knows. Tonight, she traverses it as a deer. Slender and youthful.
Untouched and unmarred by the things that would have ruined her parents.
She is malleable and pure—her soul a gleaming thing with no fingerprints upon it but her own.
As she walks amongst the forest, she plays with the moonlight that falls gently around her. The light becomes threads that she weaves together, washing over herself and illuminating the path before her with its glow. Her cloven hooves press into the forest floor as she goes, the black of the waning moon beginning to creep up her legs, but just barely. Soon it would overtake her, but for now, she remains silver.
It is only when she begins to feel the affect of his hold on time that she pauses. There is something in the air that feels different. The muted feeling of time warping beneath his pressure, like air being pulled in the wrong direction. Curious more than afraid, she angles her path toward what she deems to be the source of it, breaking through a thicket of trees and standing on the cusp of it, watching with her wide doe eyes.
For a second, and then two, she says nothing. Instead she just regards him, studying the elements around him that remain frozen—stuck in place as though pinned. When her gaze finally returns to him, she offers a shy smile, the smallest tip of her lips. “Is that you doing that?”
@[Leoniidas]