The weather was changing, but that didn't bother Spot. Rather, she was relieved for the reprieve from what she considered to be stifling heat; her winter pelt had started growing in some time ago, and the sudden bout of snow made her feel much more at home.
She was on the outskirts of the forest - the only place where the snow could actually reach the ground. Everything had melted away already, but the huntress stood in the icy slush anyway, thinking of home and of all that had passed. Why am I here? she asked herself, but as ever, her subconscious refused to respond. Sunspot had never been one for introspection. It went against the Sameth ways. Perhaps this was what had driven Grayday from them so long ago - he was a thinker if she'd ever known one.
"Born of cold and winter air and mountain rain combining," Spot sang, hoping to push away such intrusive thoughts. "This icy force, both foul and fair, has a frozen heart worth finding..."
If she'd been at home right now, others would have been singing with her. It was customary to greet the season's changes with songs, even if her mother had been the only one to appreciate the lore of it. The rest of them had simply enjoyed the sound, and the feeling of coming together. But no voices joined her, then, and she let the tune fade to silence, not having the heart to continue.
She was on the outskirts of the forest - the only place where the snow could actually reach the ground. Everything had melted away already, but the huntress stood in the icy slush anyway, thinking of home and of all that had passed. Why am I here? she asked herself, but as ever, her subconscious refused to respond. Sunspot had never been one for introspection. It went against the Sameth ways. Perhaps this was what had driven Grayday from them so long ago - he was a thinker if she'd ever known one.
"Born of cold and winter air and mountain rain combining," Spot sang, hoping to push away such intrusive thoughts. "This icy force, both foul and fair, has a frozen heart worth finding..."
If she'd been at home right now, others would have been singing with her. It was customary to greet the season's changes with songs, even if her mother had been the only one to appreciate the lore of it. The rest of them had simply enjoyed the sound, and the feeling of coming together. But no voices joined her, then, and she let the tune fade to silence, not having the heart to continue.
November 21, 2017, 10:33 AM
He was pulled forward as the voice drifted through the trees – it was fitting, he thought, as the soft dulcet tones shrouded the trees that seemed to bleed. The voice sent a surge of nostalgia through him – the words, while different from what he would have known growing up, still reminded him the way of the bard. The way of the druid. Lasher would have appreciated the moment – the way the frost glistened against the trunks of the trees harmoniously with the song.
He weaved his way through them, the voice pulling him closer to the borders. His eyes befell her then – unfamiliar to him still, but he had recognized her scent having lingered within their home for some time now. Perhaps she had seen something to keep her here?
He drew forward, his movement a sharp prowl as had become accustom to his own grace. The shadowrunner was not an open book – but as he studied the slim she-wolf, his ears flickered forward as she allowed her words to fade in to the oncoming winter wind. Moving out of the shadows, the regal remained a respectful distance from her, openly regarding her. “Do ghuth,” he murmured, the nostalgia pulling back one of the languages of his father. “It’s been awhile since I have heard a song.” Deirdre's had been the last. His heart ached.
He weaved his way through them, the voice pulling him closer to the borders. His eyes befell her then – unfamiliar to him still, but he had recognized her scent having lingered within their home for some time now. Perhaps she had seen something to keep her here?
He drew forward, his movement a sharp prowl as had become accustom to his own grace. The shadowrunner was not an open book – but as he studied the slim she-wolf, his ears flickered forward as she allowed her words to fade in to the oncoming winter wind. Moving out of the shadows, the regal remained a respectful distance from her, openly regarding her. “Do ghuth,” he murmured, the nostalgia pulling back one of the languages of his father. “It’s been awhile since I have heard a song.” Deirdre's had been the last. His heart ached.
all you have is your fire
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