02-01-2018, 12:52 AM
She is chaotic, bursting with a liveliness that he may never hope to find. Twigs, feathers, dirt - they are one with this creature, melding into something both unseemly and perfectly fitting. Just as she is still a child, he is still an old soul, reincarnated and trepidatious, not scared, but wary. A watcher. Quieter, far quieter, than she will ever maintain.
The tree she wraps herself around seems to grow towards her, embracing the tiny child, reinforcing the image that she belongs here. The auburn hair, the sunset eyes - Trekori senses her belonging immediately. He has yet to belong to any place, to any name - mother and father, Trekk and Noori, they were familiars, his caretakers. But he wandered, and not the way she did - not with the intent to return, nor with the intent to find anything at all. Rather, to observe - to find what might present itself.
Today, she does.
His tiny, spindly body is stalk still as she encircles him, his eyes blank and head held high. He isn't ready when she bursts into speech - the sound of it, the volume, he cringes. His wings clutch his ribs more firmly, lending himself that small comfort in this new, loud environment. It's not that he's scared. As is her nature to belong here, it is clearly his to not.
"I am Trekori," he breathes, purple eyes blinking softly in the girl's directions. "I am wandering..." Her other questions, he deigns not to answer. He does not know what the mainland is, nor the mountains. Her spirit is doing backflips, sprints, sparking like fire. His is calm, quiet - the ocean at low tide, threatening to return. "This place is ashen. It looks good on you."
The tree she wraps herself around seems to grow towards her, embracing the tiny child, reinforcing the image that she belongs here. The auburn hair, the sunset eyes - Trekori senses her belonging immediately. He has yet to belong to any place, to any name - mother and father, Trekk and Noori, they were familiars, his caretakers. But he wandered, and not the way she did - not with the intent to return, nor with the intent to find anything at all. Rather, to observe - to find what might present itself.
Today, she does.
His tiny, spindly body is stalk still as she encircles him, his eyes blank and head held high. He isn't ready when she bursts into speech - the sound of it, the volume, he cringes. His wings clutch his ribs more firmly, lending himself that small comfort in this new, loud environment. It's not that he's scared. As is her nature to belong here, it is clearly his to not.
"I am Trekori," he breathes, purple eyes blinking softly in the girl's directions. "I am wandering..." Her other questions, he deigns not to answer. He does not know what the mainland is, nor the mountains. Her spirit is doing backflips, sprints, sparking like fire. His is calm, quiet - the ocean at low tide, threatening to return. "This place is ashen. It looks good on you."
