The Portal
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let me kiss you in the pouring rain Safety. Familiarity. Home. These are the words that flash though her mind, the symphony of relief that hums like harpsichord in her fractured heart. They coil through her, settling her unsteady nerves, calming her voice into something easy, something still. The girl rests easy in her sisters' embrace, sighing soft relief as Neaera and Vesper wrap around her, a comforting blanket of familiarity. Hazel eyes flutter and close as her breathing slows steadily; she takes in the scent of her sisters, the soft musk of feathers and the smooth whorls of fur, and she knows them, knows them as intimately as her own body, as clearly as she knows her own mind.Vesper speaks quietly, her voice a melody of comforting notes, and Savera turns her wide gaze to her oldest sister, bi-color ears whirling to catch in every word, ever drop of wisdom the oldest star has to offer. It isn't the content that matters, it's the tone; Vesper sings with sincerity that convinces the child; Savera's faith in her sister is absolute, her adoration for them paramount. If it is just them, if it is just this, the morning star thinks that it will be okay. But it is not just them, not just this. Another enters into their solitude, larger and sharper around the edges, a dark thing, a brusque thing, yet oddly familiar. Devi eyes the creature at the stranger's side, blinking owlishly down upon the Natraj-like beast. To her muddled senses the stranger and his horse may well be monsters, or mountains, or ghosts. She puffs out her feathers, pulls down her ears: her attempts to look intimidating are comically unsuccessful, but nevertheless the griffin tries. Beneath her, Savera peers at the approaching stranger, short neck stretching as she cranes to keep en eye on him despite the protective movement of Vesper. Like her companion she is curious, intense, her silver gaze fixed on the tall bay stallion, but she makes no effort to step closer, to speak. She will follow Neaera's lead, ever the silver twin, ever the cautious child. Her mind catalogs the details: the glass horn, the two-tone eyes, the lanky crimson frame. The only piece that strikes a chord is a silver moon on his flank - but this is not enough to matter to the girl, it is simply memorable, a stand-out feature in an unforgettable night. Savera is too young to know the severity of her experiences, the extent to which her life has changed, to which it is still changing. To her the world has always been great and wild, untamed, remarkable- and in that factor, consistent and complete. cause you and I, we were born to die |
@Neaera
