Her death hit in waves. Not a flood, but water lapping steadily at her ankles. You could drown in two inches of water. Maybe grief was the same.
All her life, Elliana has run and run and run, from herself, from her mother, running towards friends, towards wanderlust, towards adventure. She is no longer sure she understands what it means to stand still at the end of it all. She has not known it since she walked with her mother in their garden of jewels where red roses were rubies, new sprouts their emeralds, and their forget me nots were aquamarines. And then she left, she ran. Elliana left before Rhone took the throne from her mother. (though, by all means, it was not an unwelcome trade; when her son had died, Elena had crumbled, and even she knew that she would have taken Terrastella down with her).
A runaway princess.
Maybe the makings of a good story if it were a story that belonged to anyone but Elli.
This world is not all good and kind, but she does love it so and maybe this is why she does not shudder at the thought of those who shift their skins, but instead her curiosity is suddenly peeked. Elliana has still never truly learned what danger is. She would see not a wolf’s teeth, but his amber eyes. She would watch not a dragon’s fire, but the glisten of her scales. She would notice not the kelpie’s hunger for her flesh, but the smell of sea salt on their skin.
Shifter. The boy says as she greets her.
The word immediately brings to mind Boudika.
Elli’s mother had been the first to teach her about fate.
Her adoptive father the second.
Boudika the third.
Strange.
No, she knows this, not strange—new.
Spririt. She captures the name immediately, and clasps onto it. “I am Elliana, I am new to Beqanna. I come from far away.”
She smiles serenely in his direction. “My apologies,” She says, her voice like smoke drifting off of a dying fire. “I am no shifter, just had to see Hyaline for myself,” Elliana admits, catching herself once more staring at the mountains. “If it wouldn't be too much trouble, and if you had the time, might I have a tour?” She asks the boy who is not strange—but new.
A runaway princess.
Maybe the makings of a good story if it were a story that belonged to anyone but Elli.
This world is not all good and kind, but she does love it so and maybe this is why she does not shudder at the thought of those who shift their skins, but instead her curiosity is suddenly peeked. Elliana has still never truly learned what danger is. She would see not a wolf’s teeth, but his amber eyes. She would watch not a dragon’s fire, but the glisten of her scales. She would notice not the kelpie’s hunger for her flesh, but the smell of sea salt on their skin.
Shifter. The boy says as she greets her.
The word immediately brings to mind Boudika.
Elli’s mother had been the first to teach her about fate.
Her adoptive father the second.
Boudika the third.
Strange.
No, she knows this, not strange—new.
Spririt. She captures the name immediately, and clasps onto it. “I am Elliana, I am new to Beqanna. I come from far away.”
She smiles serenely in his direction. “My apologies,” She says, her voice like smoke drifting off of a dying fire. “I am no shifter, just had to see Hyaline for myself,” Elliana admits, catching herself once more staring at the mountains. “If it wouldn't be too much trouble, and if you had the time, might I have a tour?” She asks the boy who is not strange—but new.