She ran.
Until her heart felt like it was about to burst in a solar flare out of her chest she ran. There had been moonlight pooling cold and silver in her spinal dip. There had been sunlight catching like dreams in the spiral spindle of her horn. Always there had been dear in her wake-- maps of rotten veins cutting through green leaves, trees arcing towards her like the wind pulled up their roots, walls growing moss as she bedded down outside them to sleep.
And still she could not forget the sapling that died and grew at the same time.
Thana could not forget him.
So when the fog rolls in thick and gray she went with it. Droplets of water gathered on her eyelashes like snow and dampened her lips with something that looked like diamonds when morning barely broke through the gray. Her tangled hair lies flat with dew against her neck, flat enough that there is no way for the horses to see the crack of lighting cutting through her neck. She hopes no one remembers seeing her run with a trail of death through their tall-tree forest.
She does not pause to wonder what she would do if they did.
They crowd around her makes her shiver like a wildcat trapped in a cage. Their eyes, all their eyes, feel like blades testing out the hardness of her skin, hungry for the sinew and bone beneath. She moves towards the edge of the, where the older horses are and those with their eyes looking only down, down, down to the stone and dirt as if they can trace the maps of roots racing underneath in a secret life she'll never learn.
Thana is looking down too, trying to see the pathway of life beneath her hooves (under all this heavy stone and packed down dirt), when she first hears him. Her lungs quiver as she inhales the sound of him, the way each root beneath her presses up and trembles beneath the stone. And when she closes her eyes, and discovers the feel of the earth alive instead of dead, she remembers how it felt to open her eyes up to this terrible world.
I am Thana, she had thought. And when she opened them towards that expanse of the bluest twilight she had ever known, I am searching for--.
Now when she opens her eyes towards where he's growing a plant blooming a color as deep as the aching in her chest, she's not thinking of the twilight sky and the salted sea on her tongue. She's thinking instead of the golden water dripping down her eyes and how this silver dew feels less like home and more like something deeper, something darker, something that is a hole and needs filling.
Thana lifts her head until her horn is reaching up over the crowd like a sword lifting over a dead, overgrown battlefield. Like she's the last sharp thing left in the world of weeds and newborn flowers. She doesn't say anything as the sunlight shines across her damp skin and makes her gold, gold, gold instead of blood-red and rotten.
And this time when she blinks and looks into the halo of light chasing through the fog she only thinks--
I am Thana, and then, I am done searching.
- Which rank would you like your character to have?
Either champion of battle, warden or just some random rank. I think it'll be fun to force her to do something other than be tragic and lonely.
- How active do you think your character will be if they are given a PoP?
I likely could do about 6-10 posts with her a month.
- Are you willing to help develop Court lore, NPCs, events, etc?
Always. I'm a huge fan of events, lore and I want to make all the NPC hedge witches. I also think writing prompts could be a fun way to delve into the lore and world of Dawn too.
- What are you some plot ideas you have for Delumine? What's your vision?
Trees! Actually I'd love to see them have to do something to "save" the court. Maybe a plague comes to the forest and they have to fight to keep it from spreading. Or maybe a winter that seems a little harsher than normal. I'm a sucker for drama.
- Where do you see your character, specifically, fitting in?
No where D: (but really I have no idea, I imagine her being at the outskirts and trying really hard to do something to make her feel less restless, and searching.) It's high time she discovered loyalty to something.
