stranger than earth

s a v e r a We might be hollow, but we're brave You have been shadowed, Savera, or didn't you notice? In the sky behind a shape pursues, constant, committed, a black cloak of memory in hunt of the child. Does the girl fail to spot her brother, or are all the staggering spirals, the dizzying dives for his benefit - it is hard to say for sure. If she does see him, she certainly does not mention it, does not slow in her escape or lessen her silent challenge to go higher, steeper, faster. She knows it is hard for him to fly, harder than for her, she of natural wing and easy grace, but she does not slow until she stops. If she knows he is there, can she be faulted for cruelty, or should she be praised for respecting his ability, for refusing to condescend because he could be seen as less? No- if the boy wants to follow, he can do it by her rules. He can handle the difficulty. He can excel, can overcome. He is her brother, after all. She lands without a backward glance, hazel eyes ever trained on the next horizon, auerate lips folded in a quiet smile. She does not turn as he strikes the ground, though one ear flips in a silent acknowledgment, a betrayal of some underlying concern. It is not her intention for him to be hurt, and the fact that he lands without significant incident pleases her, a chord of relief struck within her blazing chest. From the girl's back Devi croons, a welcoming purr resonating from the griffin's feline chest. She rises to a seat, great eyes trained on the onyx boy, pleased at the prospect of pets and pampering. For a moment they are still like this, the two grandchildren of deities, each the lesser half of their absent pair, each the darker side of the moon. Is Virga angry with her, has he come to take her home? He does not speak, and so Vera does not listen, and the silence threatens to stretch eternally. The griffin flashes an image of them as statues, stubborn siblings turned to stone by their collective failure to communicate, to break the tactile tension that binds you. If she leaves, will he follow, her sentinel shadow? She must admit, she is somewhat surprised it is he who came- but then again, maybe not. They are both the victims of their discontent. "I'm not going back," she says at last, her voice a little higher and more petulant than she might have liked. She frowns, bites her tongue. She turns to him then, suddenly, sharply, her hazel eyes stubbornly set, a challenge glinting in their depths. He is bigger than her, stronger, his expression unfathomable, but Savera does not think he would hurt her, not really. His face is impossible to read, and he may be furious, but the morning star does not relent. In for a penny, in for a pound. ooc ;; time: dusk | color: steel @Virga & open!