Two Eyes Cenote beryllium

a classroom.

a school, the one she and nala had wanted. 

for a long moment she stood still and nunlike beneath the soft tapering light, her eyes taking in the vision that eset sought so gracefully to spin. yes. she could see it, and her brow sharply furrowed with the effort of the emotion. she could see them, pupils and students, acolytes.

and when her breath was finally released, it was with another effort: the recognition of hope.

the tearstained purple of her eyes turned softly shrewd, and she crossed the room to eset once more.

"i have always believed a school needs two teachers."

nothing would replace nala. nothing would bring back what they might have had.

tavina did not want her replaced nor replenished with endless reminders; she let herself exist in the very, very present, and took eset's left paw into her own beneath the light of the open ceiling.