Whispers Waltz Around Our Dreams . . .

As if she weren’t colorful enough - the native magic of Blossom Forest had decided to lure her into its grasp and paint its own mark upon Losa’s pelt. The former princess had been drawn to what almost felt like music to her, a frequency that called to her otherworldly nature and begged her to creep closer. What else could Losa do, but obey the call? Since arriving in this land the young woman’s every move had been dogged by the threat of failure, the nightmare of Duma somehow following her through the gate, the dread of colliding face to face with a vampire. So many dangers surrounded her on all sides in Blossom Forest that sometimes Losa felt as though she could hardly breathe. So when a midnight symphony roused her from her dreams, its impossible beauty like a glass of cool water in a scorching desert, Losa followed like a helpless puppet. She’d been greeted with the sight of a flowering field glowing with its own energy, each petal gleaming the soft silver of moonlight. Lovely.

And in the next instant, as she admired the gorgeous tableau, the magic had struck like a serpent and rendered her unconscious.

Losa awoke in the same field, now no longer glowing . . . with stripes upon her legs. Electric blue brindling that arched downward toward her paws like bands of bright lightning, fading upward to mingle her pink hairs with a dusting of sapphire. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Were the brilliant veins glorious, or garish? What did they mean?

Since sneaking back into Dierne Hrof, Losa had studiously avoided the other members - especially the few Irae. She didn’t want to explain where she’d been (if anyone had even noticed her gone) and she couldn’t explain how she’d acquired her fishnet stockings, because Losa didn’t understand how magic in Blossom Forest worked. Besides, the pastel damsel had been doing a damn good job of shutting off her aura from her Ofer and the rainbows, locking herself into a self-made prison to contain the festering rot within her soul. The notion of dealing with an Arcus Irae had having to explain why she’d commited the veritable sin of cutting of her emotions was one so repugnant Losa ran the other direction if she so much as whiffed a ribbon of Arcus Irae scent -

Damn.

Keeping her energy imprisoned meant that Losa also couldn’t feel the other rainbows very well, as their connection flowed two ways. Stealthing her path through the territory had brought her accidentally to a sunlit clearing where Nyla was sunbathing. Although Losa felt joyful to see the other young woman in such fine health - her pink pelt bright and clean and her golden markings sparkling - a jolt of terror jumped up her spine. She hadn’t gone through a meaningful interaction with Nyla since the poor lass had washed up on the border of Dierne filthy and scared. What if Nyla was upset that Losa had been avoiding her? What if she questioned why Losa had cut herself off from them? What if she thought the blue brindle on Losa’s legs was hideous?! Pulse racing, the ex-princess tried to creep around the perimeter of Nyla’s resting place . . .

And she promptly snapped a twig under her paw. Excellent.

☽Arcus Irae Princess | Sister to Zawyne | Chained to Duma | Bound to Hurricane | xathira☾