Immortal
hair streaked with daggers
and iron filling her lungs
each breath invitingly toxic

I leave the quiet, comforting forest behind; leave the rushing, roaring Rapax behind. There are multitudes of tents and booths marking the meadow ahead. I am shocked, somehow, to see the festival, and I am reminded of the last time I had been in Delumine under similar circumstances. I am no longer the woman that I was then. I am wilder, more reminiscent of a caged thing. I enter the meadow like a starving wolf, Fylax just beside me.

The twinge in my chest is inescapable, and I bare my teeth like a cornered dog, pushing down the feeling. Pushing down the reminder. By the time I make my way through the scattered tents and coaches, I have dropped the snarl and composed my face. The only indication of the unrest is the turbulent sea of my eyes. I am reminding myself that it is not night, that there are no glowing flowers like starlight. I am no longer a queen.

I pause at a handful of tables to browse their offerings. There are foods, services and a many other goods to catch the interest of various equines from all ages and walks of life. I walk like a wild cat, muscles flexing smoothly beneath my striped coat, feeling a little overwhelmed by the number of equines here. Life in the mountains had not helped. My shoulder brushes rather unceremoniously with another’s, and I half-turn, an apology on my tongue.


"Speaking." | @Torielle