Effin Paradise

◤ THE SEA SAID GOODBYE TO THE SHORE SO THE SUN WOULDN'T NOTICE

A deluge of words, of insidious justifications and fraudulent virtue surges from his lips, drenching her in treachery; in myth made fortresses, the extenuation ignites like flame in the back of her mouth and smolders there, illness continuing its swell in her stomach, leaving her thoroughly wearied. Perhaps this is why she doesn’t hear the resentful murmur of Castiella, if she has overstepped her bounds; it is in defense of life, the liberty of creatures and dwelling she doesn’t know, but will learn to love, yet they are foals makes little disparity to her. "There are predators on land as well as sea," longingly, she thinks of Dezba, of how the jaguar had sharply taught her to never take a life without well meaning, the obligation of the carnivore is the herbivore, but never to be cruel. And Aslan, dear, sweet Aslan, who had disobeyed, scorned her brother in concern for her, in affection she did not deserve, in loyalty unthinkable. 

And she had compensated him with war.

"The dead carry sickness, child. You ought to be dredged in the shallows of the sea, the salt is desirable for cleansing." When Cahira had been a filly, when she’d suckled for her meals, mother had lead them by many seas. Indeed, she had seen the coasts of many countries, until she had matured, and they had been severed in Arazar. Sweet water had been invaluable in the sands, too much so for it to be squandered on something as mundane as a bath, and shipments of water from the sea had been delivered instead, at least; if they could be afforded. But her recollection was splintered as Abigor went on with his investigation into her blood, his words sink into her flesh like barbs, the resemblance to a father she doesn’t know, the curiosity and yearning with which he speaks a folly to her, and with burgeoning indignance her lips purse; ready to wound, to crush, to mar with sentences and tunes instead of hooves and teeth and horns, but even as her ears slide back she recalls the solidity of his age, and his youth ceases her fury, her wrath slakes. She, too, knows pining away, the longing for family well, and so she exhales bitterly and admonishes instead gently, "Many of us are alike, Abigor. That doesn’t always mean we’re of the same brood." There is a fervency in his gaze, a hunger which disquiets her, "Who was your mother?"
Perhaps her inquiry is forfeited in the skirmish the duo have, with gnashing teeth; with slander and contempt, but she is nonetheless absent-minded as they bicker and squabble, there is a sound nearly inaudible which pulsates in her ears and makes her think of the thrashing of birds as they took flight, it bewilders her even as Abigor addresses her and Castiella weaves in.

Peering upwards as she replies with a preoccupied tone, "The Lady was very lovely, though I fear no illustration may allow me to compare her for you. As gilded as the sands when the morning sun arose," and now, in the face of such irreverence, she turns her gaze on Castiella, firm. "You speak out of ignorance. Though the places I have named and the Lady are surely as foreign to you as this land to me, Oriel, monarch over the day, goddess of the light; empress over Lothoiri, cannot be made even with you. Nor with me. Only the Moon dare—" She startles as someone shrieks, and when she looks upwards now she sees something moving, tumbling downwards in a amalgam of sticks and leaves and foliage; and she wheels away with flaring nostrils even as she cries out, "Move!"

Whatever was plunging towards them certainly knew how to make an entrance. By Mother Fate’s fetlocks, when was she going to have a break?

@Castiella @Abigor @Ayla
A/N: Apologies for the late reply. My location in Texas was involved with Hurricane Harvey and power wasn't returned until recently, so I haven't been able to reply! And I'm sorry if I'm a little rusty now. I need to return to the swing of things!

THE SEAWEED THAT WRAPPED ITS ARMS AROUND YOU ◥