atraxia

do you have such conviction in your own shadow? anemone asks, and seems to recant the question as her gaze moves from xi'nuata to the body of water again. of course she believed in this shadow. it was what kept her. shadows were meant to follow, so it could easily be said anemone herself was a shadow. at last, anemone clarifies her own confusion, her worry, my shadows are my brothers. we are identical, she begins, and continues without prompting, and i have not been without them. perhaps this is what they want. so who was to say that her shadows were drawn to her light...? they were inherently good, her brothers, but that did not mean they would follow her. she had forgotten they were... individuals. but even as she thought in that manner, the thought was discarded. no. they were the same. as xi'nuata lays, anemone thinks to take up the same position. not but a few short minutes ago she was in the same position. the cinnamon woman was a sphinx upon the salty shore; a woman who looked as though she were made for the desert. out of place, yet... not quite. anemone blinked, taken aback by how lovely the other was. her vanity typically disallowed her to acknowledge that others could be lovely, too... but there it was. she did not see her shadows as dark entities; she had slightly misinterpreted the meaning behind xi'nuata's own words, but the sentiment... it remained much the same.