She’s not a girl, she’s a storm with skin. Eden’s hooves scrape the ground as she finally, finally makes landfall. It had been a long swim, but it was exactly where her mother had said it would be. The Falls were as they’d been described, maybe a little less beautiful than she’d pictured them. The winter grasses were dead and brown, and Eden scuffed through them. She was tired, but there was a ways to go yet. The Peak should be to the north of here, but… but she’s tired. At least it was safe enough here on dry land. At least it was safe enough here, where no one could touch her. If they did, they’d be in for it.
The Peak was haunted by a ghost that looked just like her. Eden wasn’t sure what to make of that, but a pit was forming in her stomach. Nervous. What would happen? Why had she come? Why had some come at all? Maybe she couldn’t do this after all. Maybe she couldn’t do this for herself. She was a little bit shaky. A bit queasy.
Eden steadied herself, gait even across the ground in the midst of a soft freeze. Things were strange, and she didn’t know what to do about it. Still. At the edge of the Falls, Eden stands, taking everything in. Her grandmother’s ghost.
there's bravery in being soft
eden
amber champagne dun. 15 hh.
Anath's granddaughter.
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