it's a mystery to me
we have a greed with which we have agreed. you think you have to want more than you need; until you have it all you won't be free. and when you think more than you want, your thoughts begin to bleed.
Wishbone hasn’t had a dream since the twins’ arrival. It isn’t that she’s having nightmares, or that she sleeps so deeply that her mind puts itself in the darkest corners of her conscious. It’s the fact that she sleeps lightly, waking easily at any movements in the undergrowth. When she’d accepted Mazikeen’s request, Wishbone hadn’t anticipated the exhaustion that would come with raising the twins. She’d remembered the fatigue that came with her own daughters years ago, with raising two children and trying to settle their rambunctious bodies when the night came. But Sickle and Malik bring an extra challenge — one that is evidenced by the long, thick scar across her chest.
Ever since she found the Curse in the healing falls, Wishbone’s found sleep an even rarer thing than it was before. Mazikeen had told her that Gale was controlled by the Curse at night, and the purple queen had been too comfortable with the promise. The iridescent stallion had shown up during the day, and his threats have snatched the scattered pieces of sleep she had once found. She could practically feel whatever protection she felt she had flicker and die, leaving the twins vulnerable and fragile.
The only times she sleeps now are when her body gives up. It’s happened on this late-spring day; Wishbone had been patrolling the border when she’d stopped to soak her feet in the river, letting the warm water ease her soreness. It had felt so nice, and it had been too easy to drift off. The purple mare isn’t aware she’s fallen asleep until she startles awake, hearing a body move through the jungle. Wishbone’s head jerks up, nostrils quivering as alarm begins to fill her. It’s a stranger’s scent, someone who hasn’t been claimed by Tephra’s smells, and the queen feels her mind grow sharp in the wake of her drowsiness.
She steps quietly out of the river’s shallows and heads toward the stranger, slipping through the undergrowth with the practice of a Tephran native. When her eyes land on a chocolate mare with pale hair, Wishbone’s defense softens. Her heart still jumps in her chest, hesitancy lingering at the edges of her thoughts. She hasn’t seen Gale shift into any animal without keeping his iridescent blue patterns, but the Curse could be taking an opportunity to trick her.
Still, Wishbone remains friendly (just like she’d been toward Gale, in the beginning), and pushes her way through the remaining bushes to make herself known. “Hello, stranger. Welcome to Tephra.” Her dark mouth smiles brightly, and though her glowing amber eyes are warm, there’s a sense of mistrust hidden in their depths. “I’m Wishbone.”
Ever since she found the Curse in the healing falls, Wishbone’s found sleep an even rarer thing than it was before. Mazikeen had told her that Gale was controlled by the Curse at night, and the purple queen had been too comfortable with the promise. The iridescent stallion had shown up during the day, and his threats have snatched the scattered pieces of sleep she had once found. She could practically feel whatever protection she felt she had flicker and die, leaving the twins vulnerable and fragile.
The only times she sleeps now are when her body gives up. It’s happened on this late-spring day; Wishbone had been patrolling the border when she’d stopped to soak her feet in the river, letting the warm water ease her soreness. It had felt so nice, and it had been too easy to drift off. The purple mare isn’t aware she’s fallen asleep until she startles awake, hearing a body move through the jungle. Wishbone’s head jerks up, nostrils quivering as alarm begins to fill her. It’s a stranger’s scent, someone who hasn’t been claimed by Tephra’s smells, and the queen feels her mind grow sharp in the wake of her drowsiness.
She steps quietly out of the river’s shallows and heads toward the stranger, slipping through the undergrowth with the practice of a Tephran native. When her eyes land on a chocolate mare with pale hair, Wishbone’s defense softens. Her heart still jumps in her chest, hesitancy lingering at the edges of her thoughts. She hasn’t seen Gale shift into any animal without keeping his iridescent blue patterns, but the Curse could be taking an opportunity to trick her.
Still, Wishbone remains friendly (just like she’d been toward Gale, in the beginning), and pushes her way through the remaining bushes to make herself known. “Hello, stranger. Welcome to Tephra.” Her dark mouth smiles brightly, and though her glowing amber eyes are warm, there’s a sense of mistrust hidden in their depths. “I’m Wishbone.”
@Elliana