Falls

She is golden sunlight and cream colored clouds. Her head, though long, is angular and sharp with tapered ears. Beautiful to some, she is sure, but perhaps hard to others. Lik unforgiving stone or bleached driftwood. The other is Saoirse’s opposite.

A burnt, deep plum of a mare. Her coat shines like red clay or burnished acorn hide. There’s something lovely and desirable and yet so sorrowful about her.

When the mare speaks her words drift softly towards Saoirse and the lighter colored mare comes closer, gently. Like she might help shoulder the weight of grief with proximity. Tarotーthe name feels like lamb’s ear in her mind. Velvet soft. “Saoirse,” she said quietly. The water roared loudly around them. It splashed Saoirse's pale ankles, her narrow chest, leaving small darkened patches.

“The world is good,” she begins, her dark eyes narrowed in thought. “Bad only comes when the spirit has been subjected to pain and grief it cannot bear.”

A child was more than Saoirse could ever hope for. She thought of her twin and sighed, wondering if her bones had ever known what it was like to bring life into the world. “Do you fear what might become of your child?”

Perhaps she asks too much, or perhaps not enough. Her eyes flick to Tarot for a moment then slid back to the waters before them.