Fairspell Meadow i sing the blues and swallow them too

Meraxes is already awake when the snow starts to fall. Hours of shifting and rolling into different positions has left her sore and more exhausted than when she'd settled for the night, but she can't make herself stay still. The field is so open and cold and she's so exposed, she can't imagine sleeping. Lying down at all feels pointless, but she hadn't been able to get Vhagar's voice out of her head, in the tone she'd always used when chiding her for something silly. Even a little rest is better than nothing, she'd heard her say again and again and again as she walked, though Vhagar hadn't been there. Just imagining her voice had brought tears to her eyes, so eventually she'd given in.
Vhagar's voice is gone now, but her melancholy has lingered. Her heart suddenly feels heavier as the first layer of snow starts to fall across her, and she stands abruptly, turning as if to go back the way she'd come. But she doesn't. She knows she doesn't deserve that, so she turns again, and starts to move forward — farther from home, and farther from her siblings than ever.

Ainhoa knew that her leave was inappropriate. With so much to do at home, how could she justify a trip away? She told herself that as long as she returned with something to supplement her cache, the journey would be worthwhile. It would also allow her a chance to look for Eneko, which only served as further excuse.

She hummed as she walked, strolling with nonchalant gaze through the neighboring meadow. For now, the stranger went unnoticed, simply deemed a distant blur against the blanket of white.

Her attention snaps back to the present at the distant sound of footsteps in the snow, gaze drifting toward the source. She stills, ears perked. Her first instinct is to flee, but she knows by now that isolation won't get her anywhere. If she is going to live, she needs to face the world. She sees little through the darkness, but the sound is steadily growing louder, and she knows soon her path will cross with whatever approaches. She lifts her nose to catch a scent, taking a few steps forward, but it's useless. She's downwind of the other. So she presses forward instead, chuffing softly to see what response she might get.

Hm? Ainhoa looked up from the ground and listened to pinpoint the source of the sound. Her eyes eventually fell on a stranger, only a short distance away. She was similarly sheepish, but offered another chuff in reply. Hello? she called, wondering if she might be given a response.

The sylph continued onward until the stranger's scent was clear. She drew in a deep breath and admired her cream-colored coat, noting the peculiar marking on her chest. You are very pretty, Ainhoa stated.

The stranger's muted brown tones emerge from the darkness like a pale flower blooming, and Meraxes sighs inaudibly as she calls a greeting, chest tightening with that too-familiar feeling of dread. I'm going to fuck this up, she thinks, a little proud of her own vulgarity despite the situation; it'd been a crime at Shadowfen, often punished with starvation, and it is a freedom she enjoys indulging now. In her head, at least.
She's still trying to think of something better to say than hi when the woman speaks again, and her eyes go wide, face flushing. Oh — really? All her training is forgotten in that moment, though she can hear her mother's voice as if from a dozen yards away, chiding her: "Fool girl, you're meant to be beautiful — and might truly be, if you weren't halfwitted. They're supposed to fall over themselves to impress you, not the other way around." But it'd always been hopeless. Meraxes could look the part, but she could never act the part, then or now. Instead...
I-I mean, thank you... you are too. She feels a little breathless as she speaks again. No one has ever been so bold with her before, even those who'd hoped for a night with her in Shadowfen. Suddenly she wonders if that is what the woman wants — but she can't bring herself to speak the words. She'd left that life behind when she was banished.

The compliment was unnecessary, but she was nonetheless appreciative. She was insecure about her own appearance, or what she'd heard of it; never having properly seen herself, Ainhoa was dependent on the opinions of others. The sylph looked away and laughed, Thank you. She wondered what Eneko might be doing, and if he would be impressed by the little seraph his sister had found.

A moment passed before she thought to continue. I am Ainhoa, she said, Who are you? She gave a polite dip of her head and settled into a seat while awaiting the girl's response.