Halyven
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There were no herds when she was young. The world they inherited was desolate, blank, corrupted and decaying- there was no room for growth. Is that why they left, the girl wonders? Did they leave a land of death in search of blooming life, only to find the edge of the world incomplete and empty? What would they say to see it now: still rotten, still dark, but with little lights of population, souls converging to create something new? What would she think, the errant twin? (Or are you the errant twin, Savera? You are, after all, the one who left.) Better not to think on that, now. Savera sighs softly, a public expression of private discontent. Beyond her, white walls and spires tower into the sky, hungry to touch the clouds before crumbling inevitably into dust. Devi is quick to pursue their peaks, spreading wide wings and launching into the air, but for now the morning star stays on the ground. The gryphon can scout for occupants; Vera prefers to keep a low profile, gain a feeling for this herd before announcing herself. White and gold in the clear morning light, the girl cuts a pretty figure, her youth and newness contrasting with the age and wisdom of the crumbling castle. She is too young to realize that her coat has become a little too shaggy - as far as she's concerned, it is simply a warm angora, practical for the chill of freeze. Ice on snow, Savera continues to skirt the walls, waiting for something interesting. It is then she finds the girl. Devi sees her first, from her perch so high above. Smaller than Savera, and almost as furry, the stranger is a spot of blue in the winter white, far too tiny, winged and alone. Savera creeps closer, her silver gaze narrow - is she a trespasser, too? She certainly looks homeless, cachectic and hungry, but the girl is not ready to jump to conclusions just yet. For all she knows, everyone who lives here is starving. Or maybe anorexia is simply in. "Hello." Gentle, polite, the morning star gazes with unfathomable eyes, her two-toned ears tilting forward as she nears the other child. "What are you doing?" Is it fun? She tilts her head, curious, face awash with childish guile. She hopes the other can speak, and that she is intelligent. She has learned you can never be sure, in the Rift. Or maybe she's just a judgmental bitch. |
