Arrow Lake we are made of flesh

praimfaya grows emboldened as the moons pass by, patrolling the borders first at @Blodreina's side and then, foolishly, on her own. perhaps this bravery is the fault of her mother calling her wanheda since she was born and reinforcing what it means. it is not just a title. wanheda is her and she is wanheda ...and linkon the voice of the first wanheda though quiet most of the time reaffirms what she is. she is capable of understanding now what she is meant for, what blodreina grooms her for. praimfaya eyjolfur kom diaskru. she tests the formal name out on her tongue, despite that diaspora does not follow traditions of praimfaya and blodreina's people. regardless, diaspora was considered a kru regardless and she likes how it sounds rolling effortlessly off her tongue.

praimfaya's steps falter, ears cupping forth atop her skull, attentive, as she realizes that in her contemplations she's auto-piloted through a whole section of borders and turns sharply to walk the northeastern border again, this time deigning to pay more attention. she spares a glimpse at the early morning sky to gauge the weather, velveteen colors of night streaked with pale citrine oranges, candied apple reds and candyfloss pinks, pleased to note that there wasn't a cloud to be seen.