CYRENE .
per aspera ad astra
It had been ages since she’d last seen a firefly in its luminescent, twinkling brilliance. On hazy summer evenings, Cyrene loved nothing more than to drift asleep under a celestial, ink-black sky. In fact, she’d been well on her way into the land of dreams when a pale yellow glimmer had flashed faintly across her heavy lids—some languid blinks later, her drowsiness had dissipated like mist. When the fireflies are out to play, then it’s far too early to end the day, her lips quirking into a soft smile as she recalled the silly rhyme she’d often sung to Cygnus.
Leaping to her feet as nimble as a cat, the wood nymph trailed the lightning bug all the way to the edges of the rolling pasture she’d come to know as Susurro Fields. As Cyrene’s tawny eyes adjusted to the bright spill of moonlight across the grass, she drew a sharp breath in wonder as the vast meadow spread before her abruptly came alive with glowing orbs of light. Flickering in an entrancing, ephemeral rhythm of Gaea’s own creation, it was almost as if the girl’s arrival had been a silent signal for the night’s festival to begin. It was an amusing thought to dwell on, even when she knew it was merely coincidence. Nature bowed to no one.
Inhaling the sweet scent of fresh meadow grass, Cyrene’s agile legs bore down on the earth as she prepared to bound across the field, aching to feel the wind’s soft caress on her sleek feathers. Yet before a spry hoof had left the ground, keen eyes detected the shadow of a distinctly equine figure in the distance. Her body tensed at the unexpected sight, pausing in her revelry as lion eyes narrowed in observation.
From what she could make out, the lean stallion (she could tell by his faint scent) appeared to be grazing on the crisp green stalks, sweetened by summer’s heat. A midnight snack? Yet his constant need to raise his head from his meal, scanning to and fro as if afraid of what the night could bring, evoked a spitting resemblance of a frightened fawn in Cyrene’s mind. The tender-hearted girl felt the sudden need to approach him, to reassure him that he could enjoy his feast in peace—for even from a distance, the outline of his ribs failed to escape her sharp eyes.
Mind made, Cyrene walked the perimeter of the fields cloaked in shadow until she was facing the boy. Hopefully he would not startle at her appearance if he could see her coming. With hoofbeats deliberately emphasized (rather than her normally silent steps), she approached him.
"Um, hello!” she called, wings folding behind her in a casual greeting. She hesitated then, gauging his reaction, before continuing. "I couldn’t help but notice the eagerness in which you eat, and I thought I would offer you some chamomile flowers.” Brows furrowed in focus—her newfound telekinesis was still hard to summon—a bundle of white flowers appeared from the satchel slung across her back. Holding it precariously in the air between them, Cyrene quickly spoke again, as the boy seemed still quite wary of her. "They’re delicious, but I picked too much earlier today. I'd hate to see them go to waste.” Deftly, she popped one of the herbal blooms into her own mouth, smiling widely after she swallowed. "And, if you're worried, I promise I haven’t done anything funny to them,” she assured, eyes crinkling with humor.
Would he take her offer? She sure hoped so, for the poor boy looked famished.
Leaping to her feet as nimble as a cat, the wood nymph trailed the lightning bug all the way to the edges of the rolling pasture she’d come to know as Susurro Fields. As Cyrene’s tawny eyes adjusted to the bright spill of moonlight across the grass, she drew a sharp breath in wonder as the vast meadow spread before her abruptly came alive with glowing orbs of light. Flickering in an entrancing, ephemeral rhythm of Gaea’s own creation, it was almost as if the girl’s arrival had been a silent signal for the night’s festival to begin. It was an amusing thought to dwell on, even when she knew it was merely coincidence. Nature bowed to no one.
Inhaling the sweet scent of fresh meadow grass, Cyrene’s agile legs bore down on the earth as she prepared to bound across the field, aching to feel the wind’s soft caress on her sleek feathers. Yet before a spry hoof had left the ground, keen eyes detected the shadow of a distinctly equine figure in the distance. Her body tensed at the unexpected sight, pausing in her revelry as lion eyes narrowed in observation.
From what she could make out, the lean stallion (she could tell by his faint scent) appeared to be grazing on the crisp green stalks, sweetened by summer’s heat. A midnight snack? Yet his constant need to raise his head from his meal, scanning to and fro as if afraid of what the night could bring, evoked a spitting resemblance of a frightened fawn in Cyrene’s mind. The tender-hearted girl felt the sudden need to approach him, to reassure him that he could enjoy his feast in peace—for even from a distance, the outline of his ribs failed to escape her sharp eyes.
Mind made, Cyrene walked the perimeter of the fields cloaked in shadow until she was facing the boy. Hopefully he would not startle at her appearance if he could see her coming. With hoofbeats deliberately emphasized (rather than her normally silent steps), she approached him.
Would he take her offer? She sure hoped so, for the poor boy looked famished.
@Auru | notes: super excited for them <3
