ARAXES
TENDER HEART
Terrastella feels just as warm as it had that long time ago though, a settling sensation in her throat and chest, a warmth that curls in her chest and settles somewhere behind her ribs. It's a dusty feeling, something old, something akin to... hope, perhaps? She isn't sure what that feels like anymore, really, but she likes it, whatever this sensation is.
Araxes takes in a deep breath, and feels the shiver run down her slight frame, the delicate fourteen hands feeling so much smaller than she had been. Mint eyes flicker, and she lifts her head, long ears twitching, head swinging slightly to and fro, watching the denizens of the court meander here and there. It's a quiet night, one that makes her feel at ease, rather than the disaster she's felt like since she's stepped into the lands once more.
It still hurts, deep down, being back in Novus, and knowing she will no longer see any of her family. She can't face any of her children, or Tor. She knows she can't face him, and the thought brings those long ears down a moment, a stutter to her heart and a clench to her chest before she breathes through it and slowly walks forward.
The leather bag, with its fur and bulging contents, gently taps against her side, full of herbs and healing ingredients, things she holds close. The bag had been a gift, long ago, something she had kept from the old Crow King, but now it's merely a sentiment to her, something she keeps to hold all her healing items.
Araxes takes in a careful breath, and feels it sink into her bones, the weight of the world and the fact she's back, she's home in some sense, and her body shivers before her body pauses, and instead she shuffles toward the court itself, her hooves clicking on stone. A merchant now, instead of a healer, is what she's become. She sells her wares and her healing ability, and while it feels rather vile to do it, it has kept her alive this long, hasn't it? Kept her alive long enough to arrive in Novus once more, to feel her sorrows lap at her flanks and her insides, and she feels her legs buckle a moment before she straightens herself, clearing her throat and walking straighter instead, breathing harder as she does. No. She will not kneel here in her sorrows. The weight of the world can wait.
She's here to find Marisol, and perhaps some old faces... she hopes.
open to anyone!
