The Pinnacle
Eira...
Standing towards the back where the gathering was thinnest and the sodden desert sand began to fall away down the slope, Eira stood with big, blue eyes agape and small quirky smile pulling vigorously at the left corner of her mouth. Who was this stranger, standing before her halo of heavenly light, with eyes like warm sunlight and a smile forged of the same shine, as it dawned upon this ripening land; the sickly creature’s in contrast, was but a meteor of the night, just a flash of momentary light. Although her heart sang along with the happy melody of the hour, there was an element of doubt lingering on in her mind, a warning whisper, cancer, for she was yet to find or feel any goodness in this world. Valkyrie stood beside her as a pillar of strength - health and confidence, the very things she lacked - and there were two others who had crossed her path once or twice along the way. They were friends, she felt and hoped, in absence of the nurturing family who had been ripped from her side in the first few months of her life. Eira had weathered the cruel, cold hand of neglect well: her lungs filled with air as she gathered together her courage, and adrenaline spewed through the hot surging blood in her veins when moments later she stepped forward. There was life in her, though perhaps she looked dead. “Please,” her thoughts implored bravely as the black and blue stallion finished his words, and her troubled eyes lifted toward Hope. “Have you seen Indra?” The deer was tall, lithe and lean, with benevolence wrought her immaculate posture and the waif drew another bent knee forward. A soft smiling glance was passed before the Matron, but there was something still more soothing about the first. Her brother lingered in the Rift, she had seen him and felt him - she was so sure. But the doubt in her mind was as ravenous as the rash wounding her skin… and she wondered now as she waited hopefully before the pair, what in this life was real, and what was not. She wasn't driven to hide like she was from Kisamoa, wasn't filled now, with the same ferocious fear. "I am a book of snow, a spacious hand, an open meadow, a circle that waits, I belong to the earth and its winter." |
@Hope
Eira approaches with a question (she's mute).
