Isra with the thorn-cut
“At the strangest, most unpredictable hour.”
“At the strangest, most unpredictable hour.”
T
here is a moment between the lowing cries of the herd and the way Fable's breath in echoing in her ears like the sea, that Isra has to inhale to remind herself that it's loam and seed beneath her hooves and not sand. Sometimes it feels like drowning, all this happiness and low roar rage all at once. And at night, when she closes her eyes and curls up against Eik, it's only the bottom of the sea she can see behind her eyelids. But the dawn is coloring the sky with rose-golds and the grass is autumn thick along her ankles. Callynite is a welcome distraction to the way her eyes keep drifting up to look for a thunder-bird. The bright-white glow to her bow dims to a dull sliver shine, like moonlight cutting through haze. Gold blooms in puddles of molten-cold around her hooves when she steps closer. The magic makes a sighing sound through the grass as it changes it to golden petals, and diamond, and roses. The cut of a thorn against her ankle brings her all the way down into the place where she's only a unicorn in the tall-grass.
Fable lowers his nose to the ground as the doe approaches. He tries to smile but the look is full of too many teeth to be anything soft as the grass tickling along his jawline. Isra laughs at the sight and something dark-as-night in her dims to gray. The dragon huffs hard enough that the air around them starts to smell like brine and marsh-water. “This is Fable.” A sea-dark eyes turns towards her and a sensation like cool-water brushes across her thoughts. “He's glad to meet you.” Fable ponders lifting a wing in greeting but the lowing cries of the bison are still echoing in his head so he only stays still with that strange, toothy look upon his face.
In the distance a bit of thunder moans even though there is no storm-cloud to darken the dawn. When Isra shivers it has nothing to do fear and everything to do with that low-hum roar (the one that sounds like the waves) echoing in her chest. “I heard a merchant say that they spotted a thunder-bird not far from Veneror. So I came to see if I could find it.” A gleam blooms in the corner of her eyes that is as moon-sharp and sea-deep. Her heart aches with the memory of the island and the two of them hunting through the jungle.
This time it's no mortal she's hunting.
“Have you found what you were looking for yet?” Isra knows she did. And when she licks her lips it still tastes like blood and sand.
@Callynite | "speaks" | notes: <3
