So when the light grows dim
I've given all my love
I've given all my love
Not even a mother’s love could take the bones of an explorer from the body of a girl. And oh, not that Jahra would ever try! They were bred from the same frothing ocean star, and now that the Seaborne knew her mother was but a nicker away, she ventured across the shales of strange shores with certain hoofsteps. Her boldness bloomed in earnest, its spindly vines spreading through her veins, golden petaled and lovely and sure of itself. She parted from the cove they’d nested in these past few nights come dawn, a flick of an opaline hoof upturning stones to breadcrumb her path back to home.
The world spanned out before her, vast and beautiful; and Aehra trotted its countless paths, hungry and insatiable.
Summer air was warm upon her dappled spine, fringing the lilac grey of her freckled coat in a healthy sheen of sweat. She didn’t mind, not as the sun bore down on her in broad shafts of buttery light, painting her silver hair in enviable gold. In another life, perhaps, she was igneous and steel; bedecked in the marvelous yellows of Cosmos’ burning sky.
In another life, perhaps, she was the ferocity of the sun, rather than the gentleness of the moon.
She stumbled through her reverie and over the sprawling root of a great tree, gasped, and giggled.
In another life, indeed.
The prairie was an impenetrable fortress of green spread further than her glacial eyes could see, but she kept her steps trained to the coast. She was brave enough to wander without her mother (at two years, she ought to be!), but she had yet to muster the courage to venture where the sea might not follow. Whether the creeping hands of a bracken stream, the deep murk of a swampy estuary, or the distant slosh of the ocean’s song. She always had to be close, to taste the salt upon her tongue.
And one day—one day, she would plunge below the crystalline surface and breathe the water from which her blood was born.
With a deep sigh, her seafoam heart thudding longingly, the girl halted her whimsical fancies in favor of scanning the horizon. The grass tickled her pasterns, far coarser than the kiss of water, and the earth against the soles of her hooves was far firmer than the dusty sand of the shoreline. If she lay among the weeds and the flowers, she was certain she would sneeze and itch and huff—
Enough of that, she scolded herself.
Drawing herself tall, her glittering hooves squared beneath her, she reserved her judgment for later consideration. Perhaps, one day, the bias would wear off—or else she would only be proven right.
Mercifully for the green and grand earth, it was spared the girl’s harsh criticisms as her eyes fixed elsewhere.
Stark against the brightened prairie stood a silhouette: an abyssal creature that surely must have risen from the toil of tar and ash. She was reminded of the soot left behind in the wake of a campfire, or perhaps the night sky when the heavens were too bedecked in clouds for the smile of stars. A child of midnight, undoubtedly; but one hewn of a deeper black than the filly had ever seen.
Darkness, perhaps. Her family often spoke of darkness.
Aehra paused mid stride, her ears flattening against a crown of silver tassels, and she gave in to the irksome naivety of a prejudicial snort. With a glance over a slim shoulder, she allowed herself a heartbeat of deliberation.
And then she moved, flouncing and purposeful as she made a huffy descent over the slopes of the valley, down into the dip upon which this darkness stood, juxtaposed against the green and the sunlight.
“Excuse me,” she called, pointed and demanding, and the rich nature of her accent was indication enough of what tongue she favored. The youthful curve of her brow narrowed, but she had the good sense to halt some feet away before badgering the stranger further.
The angle of her body betrayed her ignorant uncertainty, even as her expression was model curiosity.
“Did you come from… ah,” an aimless gesture of her nose, a searching sound of frustration. Ignis, ignis, ignis. “Fire! That's it. Did you come from fire?”
For surely Aehra had come from the sea. Why, then, would the rest of the world not be hewn of element?
The world spanned out before her, vast and beautiful; and Aehra trotted its countless paths, hungry and insatiable.
Summer air was warm upon her dappled spine, fringing the lilac grey of her freckled coat in a healthy sheen of sweat. She didn’t mind, not as the sun bore down on her in broad shafts of buttery light, painting her silver hair in enviable gold. In another life, perhaps, she was igneous and steel; bedecked in the marvelous yellows of Cosmos’ burning sky.
In another life, perhaps, she was the ferocity of the sun, rather than the gentleness of the moon.
She stumbled through her reverie and over the sprawling root of a great tree, gasped, and giggled.
In another life, indeed.
The prairie was an impenetrable fortress of green spread further than her glacial eyes could see, but she kept her steps trained to the coast. She was brave enough to wander without her mother (at two years, she ought to be!), but she had yet to muster the courage to venture where the sea might not follow. Whether the creeping hands of a bracken stream, the deep murk of a swampy estuary, or the distant slosh of the ocean’s song. She always had to be close, to taste the salt upon her tongue.
And one day—one day, she would plunge below the crystalline surface and breathe the water from which her blood was born.
With a deep sigh, her seafoam heart thudding longingly, the girl halted her whimsical fancies in favor of scanning the horizon. The grass tickled her pasterns, far coarser than the kiss of water, and the earth against the soles of her hooves was far firmer than the dusty sand of the shoreline. If she lay among the weeds and the flowers, she was certain she would sneeze and itch and huff—
Enough of that, she scolded herself.
Drawing herself tall, her glittering hooves squared beneath her, she reserved her judgment for later consideration. Perhaps, one day, the bias would wear off—or else she would only be proven right.
Mercifully for the green and grand earth, it was spared the girl’s harsh criticisms as her eyes fixed elsewhere.
Stark against the brightened prairie stood a silhouette: an abyssal creature that surely must have risen from the toil of tar and ash. She was reminded of the soot left behind in the wake of a campfire, or perhaps the night sky when the heavens were too bedecked in clouds for the smile of stars. A child of midnight, undoubtedly; but one hewn of a deeper black than the filly had ever seen.
Darkness, perhaps. Her family often spoke of darkness.
Aehra paused mid stride, her ears flattening against a crown of silver tassels, and she gave in to the irksome naivety of a prejudicial snort. With a glance over a slim shoulder, she allowed herself a heartbeat of deliberation.
And then she moved, flouncing and purposeful as she made a huffy descent over the slopes of the valley, down into the dip upon which this darkness stood, juxtaposed against the green and the sunlight.
“Excuse me,” she called, pointed and demanding, and the rich nature of her accent was indication enough of what tongue she favored. The youthful curve of her brow narrowed, but she had the good sense to halt some feet away before badgering the stranger further.
The angle of her body betrayed her ignorant uncertainty, even as her expression was model curiosity.
“Did you come from… ah,” an aimless gesture of her nose, a searching sound of frustration. Ignis, ignis, ignis. “Fire! That's it. Did you come from fire?”
For surely Aehra had come from the sea. Why, then, would the rest of the world not be hewn of element?
