Moira - - the darker the night, the brighter the stars
Faint crunching from behind, the swaying of snakegrass underfoot, the rustle of breath from their lungs. These are the only signs that the two are following behind, the only signs she allows herself to acknowledge on that monstrous trek up the hillside. Who knew what sort hung out in the tall grasses, what creatures slept in the sand (much like she had) and waited for their next meal? These lands, as much as she hates to admit, are as foreign to her as the taste of the sky (for now). In her spine, ramrod stiff determination stands at attention, brooking no room for questions or arguments. Only letting up the whisper of their names from one or the other, she does not look to know who's who. Not yet. There is still a climb, still the sun in the distance that she longs to read under once more, and needs to find roots and berries and herbs and the riches that the plains have to offer. Their voices are the droning of crickets behind her, their footsteps the songs in the halls as some of the only lullabies she had as a girl. At last they crest the hill, feet stabilizing on solid ground that does not slope, does not pull them toward the allure of golden waters that lull one to sleep, to drink until they explode. Only then does that same voice pipe up, only then does the phoenix turn with brows drawn lower than they should be. Gold eyes quickly brush over Erd, dismissing him briefly as she assesses his twin, his other half. And the terror that flits through her heart is enough to stop it, to stop the very breath in her lungs, to pull onto that sanguine visage a look of utter devastation. Moira's wings pull tight, clutching all the pieces that she is together as though she would shatter if they were gone. Eyes soften, mouth slackens, and the air rushes out of her in a heavy whoosh. "I'm sorry," she whispers, a broken record, a porcelain doll fracturing about the face, the heart, the limbs and lungs. "Ard, right? You're okay, I won't touch you." Easing closer, Moira lowers herself, lowers down until she can look up at the Pegasus. Large, golden eyes implore of him to look at her, to come back. Erd disappears completely, a figment, a phantom on the edges as she remembers what it is to be hollow, to only know your name and nothing other than how to feel the touch on the skin and nothing more than that. As she lays before him, she coos softly, never breaking eye contact. "I'm Moira and I'm sorry I was so crass. It's okay now, I won't hurt you. You're safe here, Ard. Come back, come back please," it is not a healer who speaks to him. It is a broken heart, a bleeding soul that searches in the night for a voice to answer her own. "You're safe here, you'll never be hurt like that when I'm here. I'm sorry, little dove." Ashy voice breaks just as her words fade to nothing. All she can do is wait and watch, a girl before a puppet awaiting the moment when he becomes a real boy again. |
