the glass candles are burning; Kirin/any

[Wayra]

For the first time in a long time, Wayra’s world was unsteady. She had grown used to an unending winter, long cold days that turned into long cold nights. The sun above her and the grass below her did nothing to persuade her that the season had changed. It was winter, always, in the little kingdom she had created for herself.

Yet she had left that kingdom, and now she was in someone else's castle. It was still very cold, and time still moved in its slow, unending way, but somehow things were different. There were other people, speaking and living, like little patches of wild flame. Wayra watched them curiously, and wondered what would happen if she got too close. Would they burn out? Would she catch fire?


The little blue girl turned her face away, and looked out over the ocean. She liked the vast body of water. She liked the way the waves shimmered and danced. She had drowned once, a long, long time ago, but she had forgive the element its sin, and had since come to appreciate it. When a casual, slow moving grace, Wayra stepped out onto the water, and it became glassy under her hoof. It was a small, tiny gift in an otherwise unfeeling curse. She could walk on water,  and that made her smile, ever so slightly. She liked the idea that she could walk out into the waves and never be seen again, if she ever so chose.

Today at least, Wayra didn’t stray far. She felt like something had tied her here, though she was not family or kin to any of the Cove’s herd. She was like a boat buoyed into the bay. She bobbed and danced with the waves, but couldn’t stray far. She both belonged, and was chained, a strange mix of rightness and fate.