12-12-2020, 10:59 PM
take my soul & make it undone
be the one, be the one to take me home and show me the sun. i know, i know you can bring the fire, i can bring the bones. i know, i know you'll make the fire, my bones will make it grow.
It seems that Tephra thrives under the ideal of family as well. Warrick’s children have gathered beneath the rocky face of the volcano as they once did in their youth. Not only do they share the same home again, but a son of Warrick rules the western kingdom. Wishbone hasn’t met her half-brother yet, but Svedka had mentioned him during their unexpected reunion. She assumes Warden is running Tephra well, based on her pleasant experience in the tropics so far.
While the gold-marked woman hasn’t been avoiding the residents of Tephra, she hasn’t met anyone aside from her older brother. The world has continued to turn in Wishbone’s absence (first when she explored beyond what Beqanna offers, then when her body succumbed to Ivar’s desires and she paced within the realm of the Dead) and the hands of time have erased her name from modern society. Like an artist who frequently paints the same canvas — covering a detailed image with a new one — she has disappeared into the long list of others who have been forgotten in favor of something novel. It doesn’t make it hard to find new friends, but Wishbone finds that there are many unfamiliar faces and very few familiar ones.
She has begun chipping away at the paint layered upon her by settling for the afternoon along a path well-traveled by Tephran residents. The volcano rises in the near distance, and to the east lies the tall forests of Taiga. Wishbone has never been to that piece of Beqanna and part of her itches to explore it. She has already committed to introducing herself to whoever travels along the path first so she locks away her zeal to travel for another day.
Just as Wishbone is doing so, a fire-clad stranger appears from Taiga’s direction. The smile that dances across her dark face illuminates the gold and softens her features. Her amber eyes find the mare’s as she explains how she had been looking for Warden. “He seems to be tricky to find,” she admits. “He’s a brother I haven’t met, but a busy man from what I’ve gathered, so I really can’t fault him for our unfamiliarity.” Wishbone steps closer to the mare, gathering the space between them with the stretch of one long, onyx leg. As she comes closer, she smells the sharpness of pine needles melting into the other’s skin like a warm earthy blanket. “I’m Wishbone. Do you live in Taiga?”
While the gold-marked woman hasn’t been avoiding the residents of Tephra, she hasn’t met anyone aside from her older brother. The world has continued to turn in Wishbone’s absence (first when she explored beyond what Beqanna offers, then when her body succumbed to Ivar’s desires and she paced within the realm of the Dead) and the hands of time have erased her name from modern society. Like an artist who frequently paints the same canvas — covering a detailed image with a new one — she has disappeared into the long list of others who have been forgotten in favor of something novel. It doesn’t make it hard to find new friends, but Wishbone finds that there are many unfamiliar faces and very few familiar ones.
She has begun chipping away at the paint layered upon her by settling for the afternoon along a path well-traveled by Tephran residents. The volcano rises in the near distance, and to the east lies the tall forests of Taiga. Wishbone has never been to that piece of Beqanna and part of her itches to explore it. She has already committed to introducing herself to whoever travels along the path first so she locks away her zeal to travel for another day.
Just as Wishbone is doing so, a fire-clad stranger appears from Taiga’s direction. The smile that dances across her dark face illuminates the gold and softens her features. Her amber eyes find the mare’s as she explains how she had been looking for Warden. “He seems to be tricky to find,” she admits. “He’s a brother I haven’t met, but a busy man from what I’ve gathered, so I really can’t fault him for our unfamiliarity.” Wishbone steps closer to the mare, gathering the space between them with the stretch of one long, onyx leg. As she comes closer, she smells the sharpness of pine needles melting into the other’s skin like a warm earthy blanket. “I’m Wishbone. Do you live in Taiga?”
@[lilliana]