This keening soul;
The water roars as it tumbles from the stones above. It mists in a cloud that splits in rainbows and light.
It is beautiful – this wild idyll of water and light. This is the sound of water at play. This is the sound of water pooling.
Yet Leto stands, now ankle deep in the waters that lap – quiet at the edges of that great waterfall. Barely anything stirs, but for the girl who bathes in the heart of the pool. She stepped in dirty yet rises clean. The sun adores her – it bathes her in gilded light and all of the creek-lands giggle like the babbling of a brook.
The girl spots her, suddenly. She has not heard her question, it is lost, like driftwood floating downstream. The girl offers for Leto to join her and the water laughs. It gurgles and mocks and rocks itself upon the shore. It reaches, reaches, reaches and she steps out beyond its reach. “No.” The word comes sharp as stone, hard and sudden as if a rock was dropped to break the surface of the water.
Though the Ilati girl looks. She sees how the water cradles the other girl. It would not her, not even when the waters rest, still as glass. The sunlight shivers through the trees. It finds her sigils and they glow bright with its touch. She is illuminated in the sun, her sigils dapples of light upon the shadow of her too-black skin. Her skull tilts for the trees do whisper. They warn of drowning and Ilati girls lost to the bottom of the lake until there they rest, eternal. Her bones will become myth, her skin fairytales and her life carved into the Tinea trees like so many before her.
“I am Leto.” The star-girl hums as water splashes upon her knee. Oh it beckons, it welcomes. She wears the woodland upon her torso – soil and leaves, feathers and nuts, bones and bells and berries. They all adorn this wild-wood girl, they all whisper of a free-spirit heart. They ache with her for a bone mask to wear, to slip away into anonymity and, ultimately, nothingness.
She knows she should say more. Politeness, it itches along her spine. Solitude and wild-wanderings have led this raven girl to be distant with others. She takes a breath and it scrapes along her lungs. They burn with effort and she blinks, slow, slow.
“How does it feel?” She asks softly, curiously. The words drift like leaves upon the ground, they snag upon her nervousness. Her dark eyes are wide, wide, never has she felt water, never brave enough to risk her death in the water. “The water, I mean.”
@Kindred | "speaks" | notes: table 2/2!! this was super fun to make
