Castalla had spent many of her more recent years as a spectator, cursed to watch the joy of others as she slowly seeped into the shadows. Once she had revelled in that delight herself, the wild princess, the jewel of the Kingdom. Once she had been in love; with a man, with life itself, with the feel of her power in a fight, with the wind in her face and the scents in the air. But then her husband had died, and not long after her ability to create life was taken. Now all she can do is watch the flame of life burn brightly in others, quietly jealous of the way they shine. Though she does not know that Katniss, too, is burdened with a loss that leaves her but a bystander to others’ happiness, they both gaze out across the city possibly seeing the same thing. Night burdens the sky but the streets are busy, lined with stalls and shop fronts, filled with meandering souls. The aromatic scents of perfume and spice fill the air with sweetness, and sounds of laughter and chattering voices are a harmonious orchestra. Castalla smiles a sad smile, its light barely reaching her eyes.
The politics of Alanaris were complex- so much so that even those well versed in all manner of courtly scheming could find themselves lost in the game. The Northern Kingdom, Anvidian, was ruled by a King who encouraged the hunting of shapeshifters. The Southern Kingdom, Solterra, was ruled by a man whose son was protected by shapeshifters. Somewhere in the middle of that, all sense was thrown out the window. And yet there was joy to be had for many. Simple happiness like singing to the moon, running in the wind, celebrating a young Kajak’s Immortalis, yes happiness could always be found.
“It is not all so bad,” she snorts softly. “It just depends what side of mortality you are born on.”
Their gazes meet. One of sky blue and one of ruby red. A mutual understanding seems to pass between them and the Wolf looks at Katniss anew, a grateful smile gentle upon her lips. “I’m glad to hear that,” she says softly. As though remembering herself, she blinks and suddenly her gaze is polite though devoid of emotion and her smirk is back to dancing across her lips. If there was one thing that her father taught her that could be most important, it was to hide any weakness. Anger, fear, sadness- it was all a weakness someone like her could not afford to show. To anyone. Indicating the city before them with a toss of her head her eyes gleam mischievously. “Shall we…?”
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