Have a seat in the foyer, take a number
i was lightning before the thunder
She couldn't tell if she was as much the child as she was back in the Winter Court; was she still naive (had she ever been naive)? She certainly pulled the focus from herself and passed it on to those around her--those of her court--after her time in Jarl, but the doubt remained if she was best fit for the Dusk Court, a warrior in a lover's land. There was no one to say that she didn't belong there, but to lead its people was a different matter. She might have dreamed of better for Vespera's children before; could the daughter of winter prove herself worthy of dusk?
Rann watched with a pounding heart as the figure of Morozko lingered behind, dappled grey coat soaking in the newfound sun where hers threw the rays back into the sky. If any were hard-pressed to say that they were of the same Winter land, any had to simply watch their mannerisms; their features were similar, their bodies a solid mass to be used for whatever the situation called. When he turned and faced her, her exterior showed nothing that it hadn't already--a curiosity, the picture of someone who merely observed--despite the intensity of the blood pouring through her body. She waited for his reaction, the mutual recognition of each other, anything that said he remembered. The light in her eyes brightened at his words, at that statement of 'you've grown.' They stood looking at one another for some moments.
"We are family," the sentence slipped out with a slight smile, her own body folding into a bow to return his sign of respect, "You need not bow to me." They of similar size and stature were two bold figures to be held in the gaze of the Dusk tower, a meeting of the same frozen season.
She looked him over, ensuring his good health, before giving way to the only thing she could think about. "You left home." They weren't words of accusation or disapproval; instead they hinted toward an excitement blooming in her breast. She hadn't thought much of those of her home court also leaving the snow behind, as she had. There was nothing calling them to the lands of Novus, and they finally had the male heir they waited so long for. Questions of her brother were sure to soon follow, as with the state of Hiemsterra, but for the time she simply enjoyed the company of one she knew in her youth--a youth long put to rest behind her.
Rann watched with a pounding heart as the figure of Morozko lingered behind, dappled grey coat soaking in the newfound sun where hers threw the rays back into the sky. If any were hard-pressed to say that they were of the same Winter land, any had to simply watch their mannerisms; their features were similar, their bodies a solid mass to be used for whatever the situation called. When he turned and faced her, her exterior showed nothing that it hadn't already--a curiosity, the picture of someone who merely observed--despite the intensity of the blood pouring through her body. She waited for his reaction, the mutual recognition of each other, anything that said he remembered. The light in her eyes brightened at his words, at that statement of 'you've grown.' They stood looking at one another for some moments.
"We are family," the sentence slipped out with a slight smile, her own body folding into a bow to return his sign of respect, "You need not bow to me." They of similar size and stature were two bold figures to be held in the gaze of the Dusk tower, a meeting of the same frozen season.
She looked him over, ensuring his good health, before giving way to the only thing she could think about. "You left home." They weren't words of accusation or disapproval; instead they hinted toward an excitement blooming in her breast. She hadn't thought much of those of her home court also leaving the snow behind, as she had. There was nothing calling them to the lands of Novus, and they finally had the male heir they waited so long for. Questions of her brother were sure to soon follow, as with the state of Hiemsterra, but for the time she simply enjoyed the company of one she knew in her youth--a youth long put to rest behind her.
@morozko
