Stories, the stepping stones between reality and memory, and perhaps a small touch of fantasy. As with this particular story. Though despite the lack of science, it was yet a spellbinding tale. I looked up at Isra as she spoke, weaving an image into my mind with an artful twist of her words. Her eyes were warm, shimmering a dark velvet blue under the light of the flickering street lanterns. I hold still as she lowers her maw to my brow, allowing her this small moment of contact for whatever needs she might have had. There had been a lot of her brushing her face across mine since the beach, she seemed to have thrown herself body and soul into the part of Mother. But I could not deny that every time she touched me, a part of me wanted to lash out, yelling and kicking that she was not my Mother and had no right to pretend like she was. I did not, though, and the other half of me wondered why. Perhaps it was discipline, for Amalie had been thorough and just in her teachings of calm and patience. Or maybe it was was shock, fear? No, Isra would never deign to use fear as a tool.
Fable shifted, drawing my attention from my thoughts as he dipped his wing at just the right angle that the snow layered upon it shuffled down. I had to step closer to the brown mare's side to avoid getting a helping on my rump, but I was not angry. I smiled up at the dragon, momentarily drowning out Isra's lustrous story-telling in lieu of admiring the dragon's bright scales. I do not know how much time passed but all at once I realized that someone was asking me a question. That familiar tugging at the back of my mind that said my wandering eyes had been noticed. It was so dreadfully reminiscent of my time with Amalie that I almost did not look, struggling to turn my head around to acknowledge the mare whose focus was now entirely on me. Yet turn I did, suddenly aware of how hard it was to make my bones move while I fought mind and body. I could feel the grinding of my spine, even as I played the part of the sheepish pupil, the thundering of my heard in the shell of my ear as memories came and went with dizzying speed. "What do you think the Earth gave back to the Sky?" She asked, that deep, bottomless gaze immovable, expecting. Did she see through my mask? I wondered then. Did she know what I was thinking? Could she read my mind? I certainly hoped not, for although my heart ached and I wanted to cry, I did not know if I could bear making her cry too.
"Ah, uhm..." I mumbled, glancing around thinking maybe the snow-covered pavilion might give me the answer. "If the Sky gave her snow... than maybe she gave him... uhm." Except it would appear as if the nearly empty market-place was just as clueless as I was. "I don't know. She already gave him the sea. Maybe she gave him his reflection?" I finally sighed, making a guess and being simultaneously disappointed that I did not have a more suitable answer.
ooc; @Isra
Fable shifted, drawing my attention from my thoughts as he dipped his wing at just the right angle that the snow layered upon it shuffled down. I had to step closer to the brown mare's side to avoid getting a helping on my rump, but I was not angry. I smiled up at the dragon, momentarily drowning out Isra's lustrous story-telling in lieu of admiring the dragon's bright scales. I do not know how much time passed but all at once I realized that someone was asking me a question. That familiar tugging at the back of my mind that said my wandering eyes had been noticed. It was so dreadfully reminiscent of my time with Amalie that I almost did not look, struggling to turn my head around to acknowledge the mare whose focus was now entirely on me. Yet turn I did, suddenly aware of how hard it was to make my bones move while I fought mind and body. I could feel the grinding of my spine, even as I played the part of the sheepish pupil, the thundering of my heard in the shell of my ear as memories came and went with dizzying speed. "What do you think the Earth gave back to the Sky?" She asked, that deep, bottomless gaze immovable, expecting. Did she see through my mask? I wondered then. Did she know what I was thinking? Could she read my mind? I certainly hoped not, for although my heart ached and I wanted to cry, I did not know if I could bear making her cry too.
"Ah, uhm..." I mumbled, glancing around thinking maybe the snow-covered pavilion might give me the answer. "If the Sky gave her snow... than maybe she gave him... uhm." Except it would appear as if the nearly empty market-place was just as clueless as I was. "I don't know. She already gave him the sea. Maybe she gave him his reflection?" I finally sighed, making a guess and being simultaneously disappointed that I did not have a more suitable answer.
ooc; @Isra
