crash through the surface where they can't hurt us
A
nother breath, the simplistic act of breathing was certain, familiar, as she was parading through this realm- a charade. Bearing a mask of something else, other, someone else even; Kitt was remade into a thing that was uncertain. A being that she was realizing she knew so little about, though she had once thought she had known much more, it was laughable, and she lets out a small chuckle- breathy, quiet. It’s a laugh that almost is not there, clinging in the air as it pulls her silken hair with it, rolling the pale chords end over end until it braids it into tethers. Tethers, until it falls loose again, splays evenly like spiderwebs against the florid tones of Rou’s wings.
“I was safe there,” she comments, watching her khaki colored hooves as they met the earth, steadied by the structure of her savior. Rouge was playing the part she once had, starring in a role she was eager to coddle, to welp into life, though she had never been a Mother. Building a pack of her own, a Kingdom, she wondered what had happened to the rest of her self-made family. Kitt wanted to pray to the Moon that they were safe, that perhaps they had found some way to carry on, that Fate had been benevolent and not sent them onward.
Like it had done to her.
On the topic of how she will be able to relate, how she will be able to avoid issue with the long-faces, she hopes it is truth the red one speaks. However inside, she wants to scream until she has no voice left, until the mass and weight of her pain is heard. What was it like to be hunted, to be seen as the next meal for the hungry belly of a Wolf? Kitt didn’t want to find out, she did not want to beg for her life, not this way, not in this flesh.
O,how she would miss the moon, the praying to it’s luminous surface as it bore silver light down from the indigo night.
“That’s all I wanted for us, peace among our species,” there are many truths that feel like secrets now, but she gives them open palmed to the winged stallion. If this was a mistake, she supposed she could welcome her end in this body, she might even invite his anger willingly if he so chose to turn her words to daggers against her. To mar her saintly skin with ragged wounds of coral, until she was bled from existence, they would not have to miss her.
She does not imagine they could.
“On our way to Dawn,” she steps ungracefully over a rise, her knees wish to buckle, “you said before. We will be meeting the Sun, or the Horizon?” Was that what they called their Home, Dawn? What did that mean?
There are words she does not speak and things she does not say. Their absence hangs in the midday air, and he feels himself aching for them. She breathes, slow and steady; she chuckles, but does not tell him why. He does not ask; would it not be hypocritical of him to? He had told her nearly nothing of himself, how could he expect her to relay the details of her life to him? Instead, Rouge walks, wing still carefully draped over her, the path ahead of them worn and familiar. There is little he can say to be a comfort to her as she tells him she was safer there, wherever that was. "I know, Reckitt." He says, slowly and simply. Was there sense in arguing a point?
Though he is her protector now, he knows he won't need to be forever - there is strength within her that she does not see in herself, and he was willing to help her in any way he could. However, there is a gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach...a part of him that wants to see her through to an end (what that end was, he wasn't sure). The way she speaks of peace, of how badly she longs for it, intrigues him. Did he have to let her go? "They are the predator and we are prey," Rouge states, then looks into her amber eyes. Maybe it was the air in Amare, or maybe it was the way they shimmered in the sunlight, but they melted him completely, and he smiles. "But that thought, peace, it is wonderful, isn't it?"
He was a soldier, a warrior, he knew there would never truly be peace. There would always be a contrast - dark and light, day and night, good and evil - but the thought of harmony...huh, it was pretty nice.
Reckitt's knees buckle a tad as they walk over a rise in the ground, he is there to catch her, his body strong against hers. Her next words cause him to let out a loud belly laugh. "I suppose I should explain," He says, shaking his head. "We are traveling to Delumine, to Dawn Court. It is peaceful there, and I'm sure you'll love it." He pauses, thinks on it. "There, we worship of God named Oriens, the God of Dawn, thus the name stands." He wouldn't call his relationship with the God strong, or say even that he worshipped him - no, Rou had too many bad experiences with the omnipotent in the past...what his Court did wasn't a reflection on his own beliefs. Maybe in time, but not now. He doesn't say this of course, instead opting for a smile and a few kind words. "We're family there."
And that, they were.
im not afraid of leaving, not of god & not of death.
crash through the surface where they can't hurt us
O
n to Dawn he said, she wondered if she would be able to greet the Sun in the same fashion Rouge did, to kiss the rays or fall prey to the ignition of its fire. Having no wings with which to fly, it wasn’t rightly possible, but maybe, Hope was a thing with feathers. As they walked, Kitt thought of what such things might look like, the molten heat of the Sun, the great light that might bleed over the horizon. Would it take her breath away?
Part of her hoped it would, ached for it truly. She wanted to feel that way again, irrevocably enamored by such impossible possibilities.
“We eat because we must,-they,” was it we anymore, would it ever be again?
“Peace is what I know Rouge,” her thoughts press forward, though there is a hitch in her breath and her words threatened to shatter. If anything she puts on a brave face now, unable or unwilling to become prey to herself. “Everyone is much the same on the inside, though many choose to turn a blind eye, caught up in bias, prejudice.” What she does, is choose her words carefully, slowly thinking out what it is she wishes to say, considering the way the may be received by her new companion. The last thing she wanted to do know was insult him, cause him to veer away from her, make regret take root in his heart for their chance meeting.
Each step is a new one, every footfall feels infantile as it touches the earth upon which they progress. Kitt does not know yet if she likes it here, but in this moment, she feels that she could. With a guiding hand, a protective wing placed gentle against the blades of her shoulders.
“I’ve never worshipped the Sun before,” she admits, another small spark of a laugh touching her. “Always the Moon, if that was even worship,” she reflects on that with uncertainty, was it truly devotion, or merely habit, tradition?
“Myself, I’ve been more inclined to thank the earth, giving us what we need to overcome our sorrows,” that was were much of her piety went, in one life she was a Druid, though she had been one in all lives before it. Kitt worked with the bounty of the land, soothing the sick, bringing comfort and cures, most of all a listening ear- compassion above anything.
No one deserves pain.
We’re family there
“I think I should like that,” she smiles, radiant and sincere, turning her golden stare to eyes of deepest blue.
