Two Rivers Isle Solar storm

Lost.

A feeling the princess was long acquainted with. 

Yet this time, it was not for the robbery of her birthright. It was not for the knowledge of being the last. These past few evenings, it was because of the loss of her auntie—her only source of guidance. Most of her grief had come to her second-hand, but this.... this was real as the grass beneath her paws.

Thyrii had buried her and adorned her grave with golden flowers, for even in death would she be surrounded by a vestige of radiance, whichever form it took. 

Lately, her mind drifted to that cold, dark place in which she rested. How now, could the earth hold you, while I am cursed to never touch you again? It was cruel.

Yet, the world was cruel. She knew that. She would persisit, just as she had always done. She had been chosen to survive for a reason, and yet still she found herself searching for that reason. Perhaps it was just to be there to bury her aunt, for there would have been none to take her place, were she too cast to the same fates as her blood. The world was cruel, and a part of her yearned to be cruel in kind. 

I will get you, somehow, someday, shitty world.

A blank-faced Thyrii took residence in the centre of an isle, crossing the shallows in an idle wander, her legs had taken her far from the grave she dug, and the water took away the dirt which stained her paws. She'd stand there, in the ankle-deep stream, and simply breathe. The sun would bask her face in its gentle glow. Mother sunlight, always persisting. She too, would live up to that example, even if it felt exceedingly hard this day.

The girl would walk out of the river, and back toward the heart of the lone island, where she'd call on a friendly smile to paint her features once more. The venom which boiled beneath the surface was carefully concealed. 

Her mind flicked to her priorities, the first one being that her appetite had been sufficiently curbed for the past few days, and her strength would wane if she didn't tend to it. 

She'd reach into the river once more, watching, waiting. The patience came naturally, in this state. Eventually, she'd prevail with a fish, and pull it aside to peck at its contents.