someday i am going
to walk out of here free
to walk out of here free
W
hen Thana’s horn tilts toward the sky, the bright blue of Angharad’s gaze follows it. The twilight has deepened; now it shines with streaks of bruisey dark mauve, and blotches of bright, aureate yellow, and hazy, soft-edged spots of warm, simmering coral. Even in her anxious misery she cannot bypass the beauty of the scene and how it makes her heart race against the inside of her chest. In her homeland it never looked like this - was never pretty, merely useful, and young as she is Angharad could have never imagined that this is what the world would be like.
She does not even feel the crumbling of the earth beneath her feet as green turns to black, grass to rot.
This is not home, it’s not, it never will be. But it doesn’t hurt like home does and when Angharad sees the warm shine of Thana’s eyes, she cannot find it in herself to argue. It isn’t home for her. But to someone else it could be.
Will you walk with me?
Angharad admires the way the sharp edge of her tail cuts through the flora like butter, wonders if, in the right circumstance, her horn might be capable of the same thing: if pushed, could she kill something with muscle instead of magic?
Sure, she answers, her mouth awkward around the word. Unsure if it is the right thing to say, if she should say anything at all, if she should have walked away when she had the chance. But the way their magic meets in the swath of bright grass and turns it to mold, perfectly matched, without a seam, settles the nervous pulse of her blood just a little. To where?
@thana | "speaks" | notes: text
