a l o r a
mare of the ridge with the dragon; daughter of kayode & kafele; mother of isoke
She had anticipated his objection, and so when she pulls her head away and meets his eyes, there's nothing but a quiet, soul-searching knowing in them. She's tired, so very tired, but the last thing she wants to do is remain here. She wants to tell him, if I die, I want to die at home, not surrounded by strangers, but she doesn't have the heart to. Instead, she gazes at him patiently until he finally relents.
In silence she begins to lead the way, trying to hide how her knees shake with each stride. When they reach the crashing waves, she hesitates, and panics a little; the sea is so huge, so vast: can she truly do this? But she swallows her doubts and begins to wade into the chilly sea.
The swim seems to go on forever, and once or twice Alora can feel her body weakening to the point where she is afraid she'll disappear beneath the waves, but then she remembers that The Dragon is beside her, and with one sidelong glance at him, another surge of strength ignites her bones until she's swimming strongly again. And after a time, they are home. The ground comes as a surprise to her and she stumbles gracelessly as she emerges from the ocean, her brown-and-white pelt soaked to the skin.
She pauses in place, taking a moment to look around the vaguely familiar slopes and forests of the Ridge, before suddenly it's too much. She's exhausted and her head is spinning; the temptation to lay down right there in the sand is almost overwhelming. Alora feels as if she's in a dream as she begins to make her way up the beach to the trees and grass; she hears someone say softly, "I'm just going to lay down," but it sounds too otherworldly to have come from her own lips.
Beneath the boughs of the first deciduous tree she comes to, she collapses willingly onto the cool ground and feels her wet body turning the earth to mud. Somewhere in her mind she remembers it's probably winter, but thankfully, snow has not reached this place. Her eyelids are already drooping by the time her cheek is resting on the grass, and the firmness of the tree against her back reminds her that she is finally safe. She is home.
She slips into a dreamless sleep.
seven; bay overo; mustang; 15.1hh; by shiva