let me kiss you in the pouring rain Another step down another road, leading, languid, to another land. It is a path well traveled, the trail oft trod, and the ghostlike girl who graces it today little more than another creature, another stranger on another journey, aimless and arrogant in her sense of self-importance. The court does not still at her entrance, the light does not change; nobody seems particularly perturbed by the granddaughter of the moon, who flutters and floats across frosty stone. Why should we care? the walls that stand sentinel seem to whisper, their ancient stone silent as she passes by, unimpressed and underwhelmed by the strange girl, her youth, her ivory and spun silk mane. We have seen prettier, cleverer, bolder - why should we shudder and still for you? Ancient and indifferent, the court cannot care for every mortal to pass beneath its arches. And thus another set of walls does not welcome her, another cloudy sky does not part to illuminate her.Savera prefers it this way. To the walls she is but another child; to the girl it is but another stone. It is not the first path, nor the last, to pass beneath the girl's feet, and though she steps with purposeful ease, her hooves leave little imprint on the indifferent ground. It is her third winter, and her fourth new land - born in one kingdom, raised in another, cast out into a third, the girl is eager to learn as much and leave as little as possible within this, Novus, the transient's latest conquest on her quest to understand the world. The world is not Savera's home - the morning star sees herself as a tourist of sorts, a refugee cast out of her home in the skies, left now to roam until the inevitability of death. She treats it as one may treat a book, studying and following the preordained course, keen to find the clues and meet the characters without altering the course ordained by authors grander than she. Quiet, curious, the girl carries on, wings pulled tight around her narrow chest, breath blooming in clouds of displaced frost, hazel eyes wide as she peers into the flickering shadows, the sea of strangers that populates this palace yet leaves her feeling utterly alone. She is dulled by the dim light, her coat a cold steel; she is a thief, a shade, a casual observer, comfortable keeping her distance wile watching widely, entranced and afraid by the dancing figures, the baubles and bling. From stall to stall the girl wanders, never stopping long enough for chatter, always just far enough to eavesdrop, to spy. Soon, she knows, if she wishes to stay here she will have to emerge, but for now she is content to watch and wait, settling back into a quiet nook, thoughtful, patient, and unafraid. Will another stranger greet here, another invitation for shelter extended? Will she find herself in another hostel, surrounded by another herd? It is her third winter, and she has learned by now that it is an unpleasant time to spend wandering. Soon there will be another summer, and Savera will find herself on another road- -but for now she will winter in this lively, dark place, silently soaking in the secrets it offers, waiting for welcome and learning all she can. cause you and I, we were born to die |
idk what i'm doing, please be patient with me x3
