The older filly tucks her head neatly into her neck and fixes her silver-blue eyes on the path ahead of them. Memorie asks what exactly her gifts are and while Roselin still has much to learn about the craft she shares with her draconic sire, her dark lips twitch in a smile. The black adolescent focuses and when they come beneath the shadow of a mighty Sequoia, the yearling stops. Lifting her head, she exhales slowly.
Her black brow furrows, revealing the small star hidden beneath her pale forelock.
The exhale continues and while Rose blows, the smoke becomes thicker. She projects it towards a bare twig, jutting out from a fallen log. The smoke doesn't burn; as it swirls away, it reveals a thin layer of ice glistening in the limited sunlight. "I can freeze things," she tells Memorie and glances at the horned child. "Papa says when I'm bigger, I'll be able to do more." How much more is still something that she is figuring out. There is a twinge of pride in her chest when she says, "he said that someday I could join him on the Isle." Roselin doesn't yet know if that will be the place she makes her home or if she will remain with the rest of her family in Taiga.
There are so many of them, she thinks.
"The memory is from Lilliana," Rose explains. "They had them in a place called Windskeep," the filly adds but then shrugs her shoulders. Her mother - beyond a few stories - never elaborated much on that place. "But my aunt grows them," her dark head twirls in a small circle because Roselin doesn't know the location of any of the places she is speaking about. "In a kingdom called Terrastella. They have fields of them, spreading as far as the eye can see." (And there is a story here, a fable that Rose remembers when she had been small. Something about a soul who fell in love with the Sun. And the Sun being in love with the Moon, always chasing her silver shadow, never looked down. Never saw the heart burning below and so when she died, she became the Sunflower. Always looking up, always watching the beloved Sun from the moment it rises to the moment it sets.)
"They need lots of sunlight," Roselin says, thinking of the story. "Maybe the Pampas?" she asks @[Memorie].
Her black brow furrows, revealing the small star hidden beneath her pale forelock.
The exhale continues and while Rose blows, the smoke becomes thicker. She projects it towards a bare twig, jutting out from a fallen log. The smoke doesn't burn; as it swirls away, it reveals a thin layer of ice glistening in the limited sunlight. "I can freeze things," she tells Memorie and glances at the horned child. "Papa says when I'm bigger, I'll be able to do more." How much more is still something that she is figuring out. There is a twinge of pride in her chest when she says, "he said that someday I could join him on the Isle." Roselin doesn't yet know if that will be the place she makes her home or if she will remain with the rest of her family in Taiga.
There are so many of them, she thinks.
"The memory is from Lilliana," Rose explains. "They had them in a place called Windskeep," the filly adds but then shrugs her shoulders. Her mother - beyond a few stories - never elaborated much on that place. "But my aunt grows them," her dark head twirls in a small circle because Roselin doesn't know the location of any of the places she is speaking about. "In a kingdom called Terrastella. They have fields of them, spreading as far as the eye can see." (And there is a story here, a fable that Rose remembers when she had been small. Something about a soul who fell in love with the Sun. And the Sun being in love with the Moon, always chasing her silver shadow, never looked down. Never saw the heart burning below and so when she died, she became the Sunflower. Always looking up, always watching the beloved Sun from the moment it rises to the moment it sets.)
"They need lots of sunlight," Roselin says, thinking of the story. "Maybe the Pampas?" she asks @[Memorie].
ROSELIN
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