Dragoncrest Cliffs you speak in sonatas going to smithereens

Blixen questions her like she doesn’t believe her and Furi looks away from the sky in her direction. She’s still on her back and look at the sky as if contemplating what she said. Furi looks upward, wishing for one to fly across the sky now so she can prove her point but it hasn’t happened since that night with Ceallach. It is one of the few memories she has where she doesn’t feel sadness and sorrow. Roarke had gone missing by that point—she can see her father’s saddened face still—and watching the stars shoot across the sky brought up an entire world of possibilities. There is so much above her that she does not know but has wanted to. No one had taught her much but it hadn’t been long that she’d explored too far and gotten lost, losing the tie to her home for good, possibly.

“Yes,” she says, this time with confidence. She’d seen it with her own two eyes! She opens her mouth to further explain about seeing them up close and personal, and how they’d died out, but she quickly snaps her teeth together. If Blixen struggles with one part of her information, will she understand the rest? Her ears fall back against her head and she squints harder at the sky as if it will open up more for her, make things a little clear, or even see something she hadn’t tried to before. If given the right tools, she can probably paint the sky from sheer memory at this point. A sigh slips by her lips when nothing happens and she lowers her gaze, glancing across to see if the girl believes her anymore now. “I haven’t seen it since,” she explains, a slight tug to the corners of her lips.

For a moment, she considers not answering the question at all. It hurts enough to think about her family and even worse when she realizes she can’t really talk about it. While not entirely sure why, she just… knows. With every possibility already thought about well more than once, Furi nods her head as the only answer. If she does not talk about what happened before Eske found her, she doesn’t have to worry about messing up. Speaking about something she experienced once has become a gray area and without the back up of someone else seeing it, she isn’t going to be believed. She licks nervously at her lips but is quiet for a moment, looking away from Blixen and the sky. The less she talks about herself, the better, she decides, and she glances over her and offers what she does best: “why are you awake so late?”

450