Our hearts call us by name
Syeira weaved her way through the crowds of the court, past the merchant stalls in the marketplace, toward the heart of the citadel. After some asking around, she had figured out who it was she should be looking for. The one they called Regent, Stormsinger, Aislinn. Her niece, apparently. Freya had come to this world and she had started a family, and the ruby eyed woman could not wait to meet this niece of hers.
She scoured the streets for signs of Aislinn, winged with ivory hair and the fierceness of a warrior residing beneath her skin. She expected nothing less of her sister's child than to have been raised a fighter, and from what Syeira had heard, the girl lived up to that expectation.
Every body that passed, every set of eyes she met, the smoke haired woman searched. She was about to start asking questions when she heard the name. It slipped through the crowded street like a snake, whispering over the air until it reached her ears. Syeira stopped, her head turning in the direction of the word and her eyes alighted on someone of familiar coloring. Dark like the sky with a faint dusting of earth tones, they could have been cut from the same stone if it weren't for the more obvious differences.
Shoulders set and eyes focused, Syeira parted the crowd like a wave and emerged on the other side, just behind the girl of ink and ivory. Then, she paused, not out of uncertainty or fear of what would come but to simply appreciate this moment. She was, after all, about to meet a niece she had never known existed.
At last, the woman breathed in and spoke, "Aislinn." She waited, allowing the girl to turn, giving her a chance to see who it was that addressed her, and then she spoke again, "You remind me of her, of your mother." Her lips curled up at the corners, a small offering of kinship. She was not one to mince words, to dance around the point, but she did not want to overwhelm Aislinn so early on. She had no idea, after all, what Freya had and had not told her. "I am Syeira, but I am also your aunt."
She scoured the streets for signs of Aislinn, winged with ivory hair and the fierceness of a warrior residing beneath her skin. She expected nothing less of her sister's child than to have been raised a fighter, and from what Syeira had heard, the girl lived up to that expectation.
Every body that passed, every set of eyes she met, the smoke haired woman searched. She was about to start asking questions when she heard the name. It slipped through the crowded street like a snake, whispering over the air until it reached her ears. Syeira stopped, her head turning in the direction of the word and her eyes alighted on someone of familiar coloring. Dark like the sky with a faint dusting of earth tones, they could have been cut from the same stone if it weren't for the more obvious differences.
Shoulders set and eyes focused, Syeira parted the crowd like a wave and emerged on the other side, just behind the girl of ink and ivory. Then, she paused, not out of uncertainty or fear of what would come but to simply appreciate this moment. She was, after all, about to meet a niece she had never known existed.
At last, the woman breathed in and spoke, "Aislinn." She waited, allowing the girl to turn, giving her a chance to see who it was that addressed her, and then she spoke again, "You remind me of her, of your mother." Her lips curled up at the corners, a small offering of kinship. She was not one to mince words, to dance around the point, but she did not want to overwhelm Aislinn so early on. She had no idea, after all, what Freya had and had not told her. "I am Syeira, but I am also your aunt."
@Aislinn !!
