“both beauty and terror, without beginning, without end.”
There is a song she remembers singing. Back when the mountains were fresh faced and the ocean shallow enough that she could always see the bottom of it shining like sapphires that went on endlessly, she had sung it. On and on, like the bottom of the sea, she had sung.
Now she cannot remember the way the notes of it had risen and fallen like the flowers coating a valley, only that they had. If there were words they are nothing more than haunting notes of a dream she can never remember when she wakes. And if she had a reason for singing sweeter than any lark perhaps it's better than she cannot remember why.
More than you, she wants to answer. But there is a memory of a song still haunting her and it makes her silent but for that smile that seems to whisper.
Mortals aren't made for singing to new worlds. They are made for dying.
For living too.
Al'Zahra can see it now in this mare's gaze, the spark of life (of youth, of boldness enough to break cities). It calls to something in her, something that howls low at the moon and dances between the fireflies like a god. When she quivers it makes her chains sing a haunting sound that seems almost far away.
Further than that a wolf worships the moon in notes that crack open the silence. She turns towards the sound like a petal turns towards the sun, like it's promising life to all the bits of her that are still just seed and dirt. “And what if it's important to the wolf that you don't?” The way her eyes blaze molten gold suggest bits of that song she cannot recall (sad notes, wild notes). Char crunches over her hooves as she dances close enough to feel the heat radiating off the mare.
She feels like a young sun that hasn't learned how to flare.
“I'm Al'Zahra.” The gold around her hooves hums against her bones, promises of movements she's almost always dreaming of. “I must not be a very good dancer if you don't remember me.” The way she curls her neck, like a doe, suggests that she is unconcerned about the answer.
Part of her already knows that if they were two wolves singing one of them would bellow down the moon and the other would seduce the forests into living forever. Yet still she asks the question, “who are you?
@Morrighan
