07-07-2015, 11:59 AM
we are living in a material world,
and i am a material girl
♦ ♦ ♦
In the beginning there is darkness, but time passes, and then there is light.
Light, bright, illuminating, blinding. It's warm here, although not as warm as it had been. But mostly, it's just impossibly bright. The girl squints, blinking her eyes prettily to combat the glare. She takes a moment to get her bearings, to let the suddenness of all of this wash over her. She is not afraid (perhaps she will never be afraid); rather, she is relaxed, willing to take her time before diving into this new existence she's so suddenly found.
As suddenly as the brightness had come, something abates it, and she looks above herself to see a tall stallion, with magnificent feathered wings spread wide above her, shading her and making it easier to see. She can't help it, she gasps in awe. "Wow!"
She is aware that the stallion is talking, but it doesn't much concern her. Having duly recognized his wings (and in her mind, thanked him for the shelter), she's on to the next thing. Which, in this case, is her mother.
There is no denying that she is Pevensie's child. Their colorings are so close, both of them the precious gold-yellow that belongs here in the sands. The child has a small white blaze, and a single white sock – both so preciously crafted that they could be the accessories of a doll. But despite the fact that she is not a copy, she is so close, so precious and perfect that the resemblance is nonetheless uncanny.
With surprising grace for a child, the girl tucks her little legs under her and pushes herself up. It does take several tries for her to get herself standing, and she is a little wobbly once standing has been accomplished, but she manages the task with relative ease and smoothness. This sets the tone for what her life will be: what she does, she will do well, and with an uncommon degree of grace.
Now standing, her parents (or, that is what she assumes they are) seem both larger and smaller. She looks at her father, all broad wings and sturdiness, and she looks at her mother, smaller, daintier, pretty. And in that moment she decides that she is pleased, that they are suitable parents, and that they've done rather well in producing her.
She teeters forward on uncertain legs, moving toward Hurricane. She pauses in front of him, swaying only slightly as she does so, her feet surprisingly sturdy on the Deserts sand. Facing him, she extends her neck so that she can gently touch her nose to his, a sweet gesture of greeting. Step 1 completed, she moves (with ever-increasing confidence and sturdiness in her step) over to her mother. She touches her mother's nose in the same way.
Stepping back once more, she regards both of her parents with a sweet, gentle, innocent expression. Oh yes, she's very much pleased to be here, and very much pleased with them.
Ketterley
perfect little princess of hurricane and pevensie
