Minah and Maren had been miracles in their own right. Twins, both the first born daughters, the only daughters, to Malachi and Kalina. Two creatures who found each other in an ancient valley and kept finding each other ever since. Minah and Maren, together, they were spectacular.
But on her own, who is Minah?
The creeping, quiet daughter of Kalina and Malachi, Maven’s diligent twin, who says little and spends less and less time in the company of others but who loves, without a shadow of a doubt, the challenge and all-consuming call for attention that comes with being a social butterfly. She likes looking at people and has a keen sort of intelligence that she seems to know right away what someone is feeling, as if she is a master of sociology, as if she knows all their is to be known. But Minah would never admit this, she is a humble girl, a tiny, still naive thing, with soft, dappled skin, coal-rimmed eyes, a black mane and tail that rests like storm clouds gathering fearlessly. She is beautiful, in a childish way still, as if she never truly grew up.
She walks in a way that suggest she wasn't put together quite right, as if there are secret anxieties burrowed deep into her chest, lurking constantly behind her eyes, a nervous thing with a desire to be as adventurous as her twin, as reckless. A walking contradiction, who isn't beautiful but is pretty enough.
Who is Minah on her own?
Minah is near him, in her own way, hovering in the darkness with big eyes looking out around the land. The whites of her eyes roll as she snuggles forward on slender legs, nostrils twitching in discomfort, shuddering in apprehension.
Finally, she sees him, at least, she thinks it is him. She has heard stories about this land, of skin walkers that hide behind the masks of those familiar to you. She approaches him, a mix between apprehension and blissful happiness that she often worse as a child. She doesn't say anything, doesn't want to.
Who is Minah on her own?
Suddenly, it doesn't matter, because she can feel it is him, in her heart of hearts, knows it is him. And she is leaping and fumbling, all the grace of her adult years gone, replaced by clumsy limbs and giggles like the pitter patter of rain. And she is against him, the dark silver of her coat melding with his that has grown near white in their time apart.
Who is Minah on her own?
The question remains unanswered because as she presses that earth gaze into his own of icy blue—she is Tarian’s sister once more.
@[Tarian]