Clear, green eyes fix on the creature across from her. Things are strange. She’s quiet, the soft running of the water and their breath where it lingers in the air, are the only things that break the silence. The stillness. Everything was alive, strange… still water runs deep. Very careful. I see you-- “As I see you,” it’s careful.
Ghosts. The talk, the idea, all of it… she knew. The champagne mare was the unholy ghost of something that lived here, an energy that rose higher than the mountains and filled a space larger than the void left by the sunken island. Things were strange, and she was lost. She should have been lost. Lost to the stories of things that came before her.
“Zahhāk.” The mare repeats softly, slowly. Trying the name out on her tongue, seeing how it tastes. Strange. Foreign. The way it sits in her mouth is strange and different, but she doesn’t dislike it. Careful, measured gaze on his face. Strange. “I’m Eden.” She doesn’t take a step forward, but… well, hell, she wants to. Her ears flicker just slightly.
“Why are you up?” It was late. By all accounts, they should be sleeping by now. Both of them. Eden found herself haunting these lands like a curse, and she wouldn’t be able to rest. She wouldn’t be able to rest on her own, at least, for a while.
there's bravery in being soft
eden
amber champagne dun. 15 hh.
Anath's granddaughter.
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