Since Lasher's passing, Aria had attempted to visit each of the wolves in her pack. To say that it now belonged solely to her was something foreign altogether, but she grew more and more used to it with each passing day. It was fitting, in a way. Afterall, ever since birth Aria had demanded nothing but respect-- now she had it.
The pale princess padded quietly through the Sentenials, her spirits still low but higher than they had been in a while. She thought often of Lasher and Casmir, but the thoughts no longer caused her to buckle to the earth and sob like a child without it's mother. It was progress.
without knowing it, aria had a competitor. though deirdre adored the pale woman, she felt this place was her own as surely as donnelaith felt it of her. the girl who communed with the spirits, the birds, the bees, and the trees would come to be a woman, and would seek what she felt was her inheritance. but surely not without warning, not without the thoughts of those that she loved! for she respected aria, who had come to be as an older sister to her scarce though she could be from the lands. there had been a reason her father placed aria beside him, and deirdre did not doubt him. and if none could see her in such a way, well, she was no cruel and terrible tyrant.
deirdre inspected a growing plant, but heard the movement of a familiar tread. deirdre, unsure but wishing to find out, navigated toward it--ah, and there she was! aria, who was quite pretty, stood there in the plain light of day. the ever eloquent child drew close to aria, head held loftily above her shoulders as she smiled prettily toward her friend, a strange and fleeting sensation causing her belly to feel the most peculiar of flutters. aria!
she greeted. deirdre, since the ceremony, felt in better spirits herself. did you dream of your special one?
after a bit, she teased--though her voice erred on the serious side of interest--could it have been me you dreamt of?
Had she had a glass of water, she may have been forced to do a spit-take. Instead, she simply choked on a breath of air when Deirdre spoke, coughing for a handful of seconds in disbelief. "Sorry--" she gasps, shaking her head. "Swallowed a bug," she covers quickly, smiling gingerly. Her ears fall slightly, and she answers the question vaguely. "I wish I could remember," she says swiftly, shrugging. "Have you dreamt lately, Deirdre?" she asks, turning the conversation on the pale witch.
deirdre panicked for a moment at the strangled sounds she heard and drew closer to aria, prepared to save the woman from that fate should that be necessary, but it was not. a bug, the woman said, and deirdre looked worriedly at her. death and loss were things she was becoming familiar with, now, and she was reluctant to become further acquainted with it in this moment.
at the question, deirdre does not hesitate in admitting her latest dreams to aria. she trusts the woman, and cherishes her, and does not think it too bold to be honest with her and her own hearts desires. i dream of green and green and green, and of other pretty shades filling donnelaith again. i dream of my mother and my father, and i dream of witches i have never met. i dream of ruling this place one day,
she was breathless from the admission, her green eyes full of her passion. as you do. with you. two queens,
a very pretty thought. do you think, one day, that such a thing could come true?
dreams were a self-fulfilling prophecy, and yet to hear from aria that she could not see it would crush the sweet-scented flower. she believed wholeheartedly this place would one day be hers, but she did not see such a thing without aria alongside her, as lasher himself had adored her as plainly as deirdre did. she was an open book before aria, and would withhold nothing from her. and it was true, all of it!
LOWKEY CRUSHES BBY DREAMS
Aria's smile fades a little, but she nods.
"Perhaps one day," she says, nosing the pup.
"And when you find yourself a king, I'll hand the kingdom over to you both-- it'll then be yours only," she adds, smiling. While taking a liking to silver fox Lasher, Aria had no care for being one herself. Deirdre was barely younger than her-- really-- but she'd forever be a young child whom Aria looked upon like a younger sister or daughter.
deirdre smiled at the woman, not at all heartbroken by the others words. deirdre was nothing if not patient, after all, and that aria was willing to place her beside her up until she found a king—at least, that was how she had interpreted it—was enough. the wooing, which she had no idea how to even do, could wait; deirdre was only capable of charming others with her golden heart. aria, i wanted to speak with you on something,
she admitted, when... when you thought that casmir was your special one... how did it make you feel?
deirdre paused for a moment, her cheeks warming. it appeared the dawning of her own first crush had come, and her stomach flipped as she thought of the ink-laden man of the ocean.
"How did it make me feel?" she asks, her ears pricking with interest. "Warm, happy, kind of stupid," she admitted, thinking back to the evening they shared in the snow together. She glances to Deirdre curiously. "Why? Do you think you've found your own?" she asks with interest, smiling. Renoir crosses through her mind, and she worries for a moment, but she forces herself to think of Osprey and Dante's boy instead. He was old enough to have made a lasting impression, surely.