| CHARYBDIS they reflect everything, these waters |
| The words came to her incessantly, on the soft breath of the breeze, in the rustling of leaves, with the whispering of the tide, always coming and going, so that Charybdis seemed unable to escape, no matter where in the Ridge she chose to hide; 'That could change.' All things changed and Charybdis knew this as well as anyone. But there were some things she could not help but try to resist, for reasons she was unable to explain.
Or was perhaps just unwilling to. It wasn't as though she avoided thinking of that day, when she'd led a stranger through her home, revealed to him the heart of it (and of her). Charybdis hadn't known how to respond to him in that moment, at least, not with words. And thereafter, she'd had sense enough not to make him any promises. They'd followed the same path back to the border where they'd met, but the return journey had sapped the strength from the mare with the blood-red mantle, so it left her feeling like she were wading against a current, or like she was briny water trying to flow upriver to a place she had no right to be. And then she had parted ways with Drogon, and left him with an almost-promise. "I wan' to see the place dat is 'ome to you someday, Drogon." The Harbor and the Shore, too. But Paradise... The southernmost quarter held the greatest allure for her, now. Because the half-blind mare believed the knowing of the place that Drogon had been born would give her deeper insight. It wasn't something she could deny, that she wanted to know him, but she would never admit it aloud, no matter how many times the words came to her. 'That could change.' All things changed, and It wouldn't be an impossible thing. Perhaps difficult in ways, but she could gain mastery over the direction her life was heading, couldn't she? She could wrangle destiny just this once, after all her blind faith, and it would surely grant her one simple thing that she desired, could it not? 'If you wanted it to.' The ebb and flow of the tide. 'If you wanted it to.' The rhythmn of her (un)steadily beating heart. 'If you wanted it to.' The white mare sought safety in the deep darkness of the mountain's shadow, ignoring the twinging in her belly, and desperately hoped she'd make it to her hidden cave before whatever predator who's scent had been carried to her by the wind (and the words) found her. But instinct had her stopping in her tracks, and taking another path instead. One that would lead her away from isolation, because, though she was mostly content with her own company, right now (just like the day she had met Drogon seasons ago) the last thing Charybdis wanted was to be alone. But dare she call for Saoirse to keep her company or seek out Jabari so he could keep watch from a small distance while she rested? Did she have the courage to give herself over to her unconscious mind and leave herself vulnerable, so that she could walk through her dreams and ponder over why she had felt Faolain's presence so strongly as of late? There was one above all who she desired to call out for, but she bit down on her tongue, lest she waken some ravenous beast without (or within). And there, in a moment of dead-quiet, she heard the voice of what could only be a ghost now, come to taunt her: tell me where to stand. Her throat constricted with a bitter blend of guilt and grief. It was better to be alone. Safer. But - 'That could change, if you wanted it to.' And Charybdis wanted, but she looked always to the ocean for guidance, and when the sea was hungry, it never turned out well. So, somber and steadfast, she silently settled out of sight, shrouded by a veil of verdant jungle vines growing so vivaciously that they hid the glow of her pale body. And as she waited for the wave of contractions to pass, she murmured fervently beneath her breath, a promise she couldn't bring herself to speak to another, drawn from her past when she'd been brought low by one she'd loved and lost. "I would give all I am." It wouldn't be fair to say such a thing, not to anyone, especially not - No! Charybdis shook her head, dispelling the thought. The half-sighted mare felt so much less than she ever had before. And in secret, some of the places she was broken inside were still healing. |