FIONA
and we will press promises between us like flowers in a book
Fiona stood on the cliffs with a winter wind biting at her skin, looking out over the lulling waves, dark as the sky above. On that wind fluttered scraps of paper like leaves, twisting and turning, as equines of all ages cast their wishes out to sea.
She stood there, twirling a brittle, dried bloom between her fingers like a piece of string. Back and forth, back and forth, watching its pressed golden petals and deep black center blur and blur and blur. She'd received the flower the season prior and had saved it, but looking at it now it reminded her more dearly of someone else. Someone with eyes not too unlike the flower, whose gaze she would hold as gently as she did this fragile thing.
Fiona let it go, allowing the wind to whisk it away. For a time she watched it, sending her hopes with it, until it fell below the cliff edge and out of her line of sight. When she turned back to the tables, lined with food and drink and bodies, her lavender gaze alighted on those eyes of gold, burning as brightly in the night as the bonfire behind her.
A smile tipped up the corners of Fiona's lips as she made her way closer to his side. Tenderly, she reached out for him in greeting, and her heart sang his name like it was her the music of her soul; Atreus. Then, her eyes landed with great curiosity on the wrapped bundle he'd brought with him, the question plain in their lavender depths.
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