Cassiopeia's View And I'm still so blue,

The name hung in the air, a whisper carried by the wind, and as if summoned by the call of the past, Gjalla emerged from the shadows of the jagged stone path, her figure half-illumined by the faint, silvery light of the stars above.  She had been tracking a path well-worn by her own restless thoughts, guided by an instinct she could never name. And there she was—Morwenna, the queen without a throne, silhouetted against the midnight sky. It suited her still.

Her heart pounding in her chest, periwinkle eyes searching her face like she would disappear. When she did not, Gjalla closed the distance to embrace the woman. Gjalla's neck curve to fit against hers, drinking in the scent of plum and sleet, nose buried into her mane.

"Mo," Gjalla whispered, huffing a disbelieving laugh. Her voice was low, steady—a stark contrast to the years that had passed between them, yet the warmth of her words had not yet left. The sight of her spirit sister stirred something deep within her, an old ache. Something potent and undeniably soft.  There was no need for pretenses here, no guarded masks. She'd found that Morwenna often saw through hers anyway, too alike in their natures.

"I've missed you."