⬩ none ⬩
▻ none (x none) ◅
She was growing up, she knew at least what memories were for what stage of her height compared to things around her, by approximation rather than anything improving, and so there was far less strife or struggle to be had over the absence of her mother or Kestrel now. She had learned permanence, had adapted to the lack of temporal reasoning, even shifting sands around her did not stress her. If the whole world was unpredictable, then what was predictability worth, after all.
Her dayflower colored eyes look across the main oasis of the Dunes and he ponders what it was that kept her mother experiencing the world in her way, what could keep Kestrel on the move and only coming back in intervals she could not place, what would be easier for her if she were to take up the wanderlust that her family seemed inclined to.
What if she lived where seasons could be identified, where trees could mark her growth, where her choice to walk a path could easily help her pace her world to that of others who knew time in a way she would never truly understand. In her day, yes, but not long-term.
She settles down to wait for Kestrel’s untimed return, determined to be easily found so that she might not miss the chance to discuss the possibility of a move from this eternally changed place.
OF THE LOST ISLAND WILDS
▻ mare - iberian arabian x - palomino, bay carrier - 14.3 hh ◅