the ghost of a girl that i want to be mostthe shell of a girl i used to know well
Camelia watches with a quiet stare. She’s always had a keenness for noticing the small things (the crooked smile in the bark of the tree, the happy twitter of a bird to symbolize the approach of spring, a shift in movement to express unease). Perhaps it’s a trait established in her from her parents – from her father pulling her into his warm chest and teaching her lessons or from her mother kissing her cheek and murmuring the faery song. Whatever the root of the personality trait, Camelia notes the lines of Fiasko in Sidra’s face.
The dunskin’s hooves itch to greet the girl (her niece of sorts, although Fiasko is only her adopted sister) and learn more about her, but she resists the urge. The look of urgent need for answers is carved into every face and sewn among the exhale of their breaths. So instead she turns her gentle eyes toward the other two newcomers and her heart aches for all she has missed while she was gone. But her steely determination (perhaps renewed from her childhood by her return) flames within Camelia’s chest like a brazen fire. She will learn each Gates member’s name and their life – make them her friends, turn them from strangers into comrades.
Camelia doesn’t go without noticing Wichita’s intense staring at the black stallion. A butterfly smile briefly dances over the once-queen’s lips, but it quickly fades. She can’t say she’s ever had the displeasure of coming across a previous one-night’s stand; Mast has been the only man she has ever been with intimately. Her heart flutters and she turns her gaze toward Mast.
His questions pose an interesting (yet dangerous) situation for the Gates and Camelia wonders what they will end up doing. She knows her own critique is of little value, with her absence, and so she keeps her lips smoothly closed. However, she knows Mast has a huge amount of pressure and weight on his shoulders – ultimately, the decision of the Gates would be left up to him, after the votes of the other members – and she knows it cannot be easy.
Whatever they choose to do, Camelia knows the Gates will rise from the ashes.
They always have.
Camelia shifts to consolingly press her shoulder against Mast’s, verifying she is here for him. She doesn’t say anything just yet, but rather listens with the well-practiced thoughtfulness a trained princess and once-queen always carries with her.
camelia
