06-02-2018, 02:58 PM
haze like a fever
i fell like a dreamer for sweet tea and lemonade; it clings to my t-shirt it’s loud and it lingers, designed to suffocate. i light up to find what i’ve known all this time, there’s some beauty here yet
Bittersweet nostalgia pours over her shoulders with the pressure of a waterfall, threatening to push her down and drag her along the river’s current. Wishbone feels safe here, with the humidity of Tephra snuggling against her sides like a tiger-cat. As much as Nerine has become her present-day home, Tephra is the place of her birth and her youth and will always hold a special place in her heart.
Alongside Tephra nestles her father. A heavy, shuddering sigh falls out of her sable mouth before she can control it when they embrace. She pushes her nose into the thickness of his navy feathers, inhaling the familiarity of his scent — windscrubbed skies and brine and ash and warm sun. He smells like home, even if her own body is coated in the scents of Nerine (of wild winds and granite cliffs and northern oceans). Pinpricks of premature tears dance along the back of her eyes, but she blinks them away before stepping back to observe Warrick easier.
Her life is one endless adventure and leaving Tephra for Nerine has just been one piece of it.
A syrupy smile finds her mouth when he mentions his pride and she feels deep, burning warmth blossom in her chest. “You’ve heard, then?” Wishbone assumes he has; Scorch had personally accompanied another Leviathan (Porcia, if she remembers correctly) to Tephra to deliver the news. Part of her wished to tell her father herself, but she is glad Nerine has jumped at the chance to spread the news of their loss and gain.
Wishbone’s heart quickens at the thought of her coronation and queenship thereafter. She’s grown up watching her father lead Tephra nobly and her sister lead Hyaline gracefully. There are expectations set in place — maybe not from her family’s side, but from her own and from Beqanna’s — for Wishbone to lead just as well as them and the thought brings cold tendrils of doubt to wind within her abdomen.
“Do you think I’ll do okay, leading Nerine?” The northern kingdom is a powerful one, filled with hardy warrioresses and silver-tongued diplomats. Will Wishbone’s hand be firm enough to guide them toward success and security? Her excitement is a powerful thing, her bravery even more so, but only time will tell if her wisdom will also thrive. Wishbone’s amber eyes gaze into the cerulean of her father’s eyes, curious to know what Warrick might say.
Alongside Tephra nestles her father. A heavy, shuddering sigh falls out of her sable mouth before she can control it when they embrace. She pushes her nose into the thickness of his navy feathers, inhaling the familiarity of his scent — windscrubbed skies and brine and ash and warm sun. He smells like home, even if her own body is coated in the scents of Nerine (of wild winds and granite cliffs and northern oceans). Pinpricks of premature tears dance along the back of her eyes, but she blinks them away before stepping back to observe Warrick easier.
Her life is one endless adventure and leaving Tephra for Nerine has just been one piece of it.
A syrupy smile finds her mouth when he mentions his pride and she feels deep, burning warmth blossom in her chest. “You’ve heard, then?” Wishbone assumes he has; Scorch had personally accompanied another Leviathan (Porcia, if she remembers correctly) to Tephra to deliver the news. Part of her wished to tell her father herself, but she is glad Nerine has jumped at the chance to spread the news of their loss and gain.
Wishbone’s heart quickens at the thought of her coronation and queenship thereafter. She’s grown up watching her father lead Tephra nobly and her sister lead Hyaline gracefully. There are expectations set in place — maybe not from her family’s side, but from her own and from Beqanna’s — for Wishbone to lead just as well as them and the thought brings cold tendrils of doubt to wind within her abdomen.
“Do you think I’ll do okay, leading Nerine?” The northern kingdom is a powerful one, filled with hardy warrioresses and silver-tongued diplomats. Will Wishbone’s hand be firm enough to guide them toward success and security? Her excitement is a powerful thing, her bravery even more so, but only time will tell if her wisdom will also thrive. Wishbone’s amber eyes gaze into the cerulean of her father’s eyes, curious to know what Warrick might say.
@[Warrick]