Altar of Twilight there’s a galaxy hidden

for @Cinnamon

as the velveteen colors of night slowly spread across the dusk strewn sky seeking to consume praimfaya takes a break from border marking to slip out and stretch her legs. she is not sure why she is drawn to the altar of twilight — as she has an inherent and understandable weariness of mountains and the like — but as the sugary moonbeams touch upon the rockface, reflecting in an ethereal glow upon the flatlands below she is entranced. it's a breath-catching sight she thinks as she moves through the tall emerald grasses that tickle and whisper feather-light at her legs and underside.

it was almost too bad that the ethereal moonmagic to be found here was placed upon such accursed grounds. she could not — and would never — look upon any mountain with the same majestic wonder that she once had. the tragic death of her wanlida had seen to it and her shoulder tense as the earth grumbles underfoot and the magic begins to tarnish as her reality spiderweb cracks through it.

underfoot, the earth rumbles again. cinnamon has no idea what it means, though her imagination is doing a poor job of filling her ignorance with fantastical theories and baseless fears. she does know that the unease that settles low in her bones is instinctual, and attempts to listen to it as best she can. nothing feels safe; the mountains least of all, and yet it upon one of them she finds herself that twilight.

as she travels, the last of the daylight slinks over the horizon, moonbeams replacing the clear light of day. there's an almost magical quality to them, and she slows her steps, softening them against the rockface as if she were hunting. they are not meant to be enjoyed in solitude, it seems, for she comes across the young girl just as the earth begins to tremble. 

she's young—Cinnamon can't tell how young, exactly, but surely she shouldn't be out on her own. tense, too, though it would be a wonder for anyone not to be feeling tense, with all the shifting of the earth. "hey," she calls out first, not wanting to startle the girl. "are you alright?" 

hey, a voice calls out to her through the quieting tremors of the earth as it recedes and grows blissfully still and solid beneath her paws once more. regardless, the tension doesn't entirely ease from praimfaya's shoulders: not even as the autumn colored woman approaches. are you alright?. it is in and of itself a fair question; and while praimfaya desires to answer with truth in that moment — for surely the older woman has already noticed the tension in her shoulders — she also isn't very keen on admitting her newfound fear.

at least not to a stranger.

sha, and then in the next breath replies in common with i'm fine. a few heartbeats pass and so, too, have the tremors of the unsettled earth. praimfaya releases a near inaudible sigh of relief. hopefully the earth will remain calm now. she offers lightly, partially hopeful and partially skeptic. the earth hasn't been calm in a week — what occasion would it have to stop now?

she says something that Cinnamon can only guess is affirmative, though her next words make it clear. she does not immediately reply, considering her next words, but then the girl speaks again. Cinnamon supposes that the tremors are what contribute to her tension, but she can not deny that the girl out here, all alone, worries her. 

"hopefully." she doesn't believe it, though. "where are your people?" she asks gently, hoping the answer is a simple one. she sits, relaxing at the stillness of the earth, though her wariness towards the mountains does not fade.

praimfaya lets out a small noncommittal noise, glad that the two of them are of a similar mind on the matter of the rumbling earth. though admittedly she finds it hard to imagine anyone that is not unsettled by it and does not wish for it to cease once and for all. many times, praimfaya often forgets that she is still a child — until those moments where she does remember, like this one for instance — and is a bit taken aback by the question. most days, she does not feel like a child. she feels like a battleworn adult shoved in a still growing ( irritatingly slowly in her personal opinion ) body that has seen much more than one of such a tender age should.

but life rarely coddled and praimfaya has adjusted in the only way she knows how.

my people are in the fen, she gestures in it's direction with her muzzle. i was marking borders and decided to stretch my legs. she tells the woman, hopefully assuring her that she is not some wandering orphan.

the girl's speech and intents seem to belong to someone much older than herself. Cinnamon and her siblings had certainly not had the same maturity as this girl when they were young; until a few months prior, their lives had been sheltered, secure. she does not think the girl's maturity is a bad thing, only slightly worrying. if her own maturity came late, and she lived a sheltered life, it is only too easy to assume the girl's thus far has been anything but. 

"the fen," she echoes, attempting to puzzle out if she'd ever passed by a fen. her curiosity certainly piqued and determined to learn more of this girl and her family. she's not entirely comfortable leaving her alone yet, either. "what are they like?" 

you get my 100th post! c:

praimfaya runs with the ( wrong ) assumption that when she says 'the fen' that every adult automatically knows which one she means. it occurs to her now, as the woman echoes it back to her, that her assumption might be ill-founded. it's called broken antler fen, south of here, at least to the common speaking natives of the wilds. my kru — my people — call it roangeda. it was blodreina's attempt to 'trig-ify' it and though praimfaya hadn't been fussed about it either way it has grown on her. she cannot imagine calling it anything else.

they are strong, her mind flashes first to blodreina, and then to ingram who must bear the weight of losing the love of his life. though she finds purpose in roangeda and seeing that it comes to life she worries for her father deeply. he is her only surviving parent and she doesn't think she can do any of this without him. she doesn't want to have to find out. and even henwen, whom she had only spoken to a few times, eludes a quiet strength that praimfaya cannot help but admire. and they are kru. kru is family.

praimfaya shares a bit more about roangeda but eventually the woman and her part ways and head their separate paths.