Dawnlark Plains white sun, the upswing

✹☾❂

 

In truth, Eleuthera had no singing skill. All she had was the passion in her soul, which always spoke loudly and belied her joie-de-vivre, or foretold of her deep sorrows. There was little to hide; or, there was little that she wanted to hide. As a seasoned traveler who was experienced in shedding packs and people time and time again, this part of her was her only sense of contingency. Especially now, without Séamus…

Séamus…

Anyways, it was her passion that shone through her voice when she howled or sang lyrics, as it shone now in her eager interest in this man’s introduction. Dante! and he had complimented her own name, which far too much of a mouthful for her liking, but she smiled besides herself, letting the upturn of her cheeks squint her eyes, and gave him an ominous warning. “Oh, be careful,” she offered, her tone carrying a sense of suggestive jocularity. “If you don’t stop complimenting me, I might very well fall in love with you!" After all, who didn’t like having their feathers fluffed, and being told they had a nice voice, as well as a lovely name?

In a small way, Dante’s pale coloring and olive-hued eyes reminded her of her mother — and as well it should have, because she knew she was getting close to the Hushed Willows. The land spoke to her, as well as she greatly recognized the planes that lay just beyond the holdfast of the willows. These were the fields of her puppyhood, and had so many memories romping here with her brother. It was these sort of memories than tinged her mental image of Dante’s pack with feelings of deep warmth and love. 

It was truly nice to listen to the stories Dante had to tell about his shoreline, faraway culture. Perhaps she had drifted close to Dante’s home once, during her nomadic years, but she raked through her memory and couldn’t place this specific packhood. So she listened, hoping to learn a way of life, a perspective, that was different than her own. If anything, Eleuthera was a patchwork of her experiences, and the wolves and customs she had come across, and that’s what this very much was! A chance to learn about what interested her most — everything.

Then the question was turned back on her, onto a topic she much less preferred — her own family's ways. Not that she wasn’t interesting, but her own history wasn’t all shiny and new. She had known herself her whole life — in that way, really, it was rather selfish of her, as if the conversation only existed for her own enjoyment. “We didn’t really have songs… more like, prayers. I never really understood it, though." She shrugged and turned her head to the side. “They liked parties, but they never really sang." Eleuthera cast her eye to the quickly darkening sky behind her. “But i’ve been traveling ‘round for a long while, so I’ve picked up a song or two! My brother and I used to sing duets." It took a while to commit these melodies to memory, but when she sometimes stayed with a pack for four or five months, others usually delighted in teaching her.