our hearts know deeper seasons than our memories
Larke feels nerves skitter along the edges of her vision as she moves toward the beach.
She has never even been present at a meeting like this, let alone been someone who called them, and she finds that her youth feels like a vice around her throat. Her mouth is dry and for a second, she can or do nothing at all. She just stands there with a slight sea breeze tugging at the flowers and her mane. She closes her sage green eyes and lets it trace the elegant lines of her face—and she smiles.
When she feels that she is capable of it, she shifts her weight and then calls for anyone who may hear. It is a soft, low sound, throaty, and does not betray the anxiety that flutters in her stomach.
She has no idea who, or what, will come.
No idea what she will face.
But she finds herself looking for the purple mare who had agreed to stand next to her in the next coming age of Ischia. It would be a calming voice to have her now, but until she arrives, Larke merely stands there, feeling the relief of the ocean area coming off the tide and letting it soothe her nerves.
When they arrive, she finally addresses them, steady but so painfully young.
“Hello,” she greets, looking at each who arrive one-by-one. “My name is Larke, and some of you may have heard of the events that bring me here.” She shifts, uncomfortable, but continues. “My father is Vulgaris of Tephra who has asked me to help lead Ischia as a territory. As I am clearly a stranger,” here, her smile is apologetic, shy, “I have asked Eva to lead alongside me.” She gestures to the mare.
A frown crosses her delicate features for a moment but washes it away.
“I would very much like to get to know you all.”
This, said quieter.
Please wait for @[Eva] to reply first. <3