Brinly
She had agreed to come to Nerine, but she regrets it.
Foolishly, she had allowed herself to become briefly captivated by the girl she had met in the forest. Unlike most, she had not been so easily put off by Brinly’s abrasive attitude, even though she had never entirely softened during the encounter. That in itself was enough for her to become enchanted; even if she hadn’t shown it. She had somewhat perfect the art of appearing as stone and marble on the outside – unyielding, unforgiving. But on the inside, her heart was skipping.
For a moment, she almost dared to hope there was something there.
For a moment, she almost let her thoughts run away from her, she almost let herself imagine what it would be like to not be angry, to find some sort of trust in someone.
But doubt always beat hope, and by the time she reached the cold, rocky shores of Nerine, the doubt had swallowed her whole again.
She can feel her pulse begin to quicken, and her throat tightens with nerves. The sea breeze whips and snaps at the long tendrils of her mane, and she does nothing to rid her forelock from her eyes. She should look for Brazen, she thinks. She should find her, and maybe her frayed nerves would be soothed, and maybe being here wouldn’t feel like such a mistake.
Or, she could leave.
She could leave, before anyone saw her, and Brazen would never know the difference.
— burn until our lives become the embers —
@[Brazen]