Yros

There came a moment where the youth faltered in his step, not due to fatigue or injury, but a hesitancy behind his eyes. Without the solemn eyes of his father at his back, nor the bark and braying command of his eldest siblings, Lorcan was thoroughly uncertain of himself.

He stood as one might at the threshold between two chapters, the before and the after of some egregious event. And that, very well was true enough for the brawny adolescent. A shudder whelmed across his chest, burnishing the heart with a tempered feeling of concern.

Bravado had escaped him at the time of this disbandment, his brazen attitude slipped and tumbled and left him with an aching in his stomach and little left of his youthful exuberance. The brows darkened his eyes, and Lorcan continued along his excursion.

Before him lay nothing but that barren path, not much to speak of the company ahead or behind—simply the decaying sunlight and the humbling chill that came in its wake.

she may be a daughter of the matriarch, but she shines more in the moon than the sun. she is not a creature made for the harsh noonlight, for bowing her head against the heat of the day - not like her sister, the sun incarnate, shining and steadfast. second child, distant and aloof, was made for the shades and shadows of evening, for pallid rays of silver moon and the hushed whisper of some vague night-things crooning in the background.

so she is already upon the esker when Lorcan has his moment of hesitation, when he shudders under the weight of all that lays before him ( behind him? ).

and she watches, ember eyes glowing in the semi-dark, her own pale coat lit by the dual moons that hang low in the sky. the festival is long done, but there's still some hint of celebration in the air - but, more than that, there is the heaviness of expectations not met, of a matriarch who promises and promises but never delivers.

she winces to hear some of the whispers, the complaints.
she looks anxiously when hollyhock passes by in a tizzy, trying to meld whatever newest disaster has been laid before them.

gemini wishes she could help more she is glad she cannot.

a sigh escapes her tapered snout and just as she's about to retire, to dip away from the softly rolling hills and pour herself back unto her lavish bedchambers, she catches sight of the ruffian.

dark fur barely seen in the shadows of the prairie, only the flecks of ash in his fur catching against the bright light of the moon's kiss. her ears swivel up, brow lifting, as she regards him. he seems... lost, somehow. or wanting ( waiting? ) and she can almost taste his own expectation from here - is it adventure he wants? is it grief that drives him? she doesn't know his face, the scent that hangs on his coat, and interest sparks warmer in her chest at the thought that he could be a stranger; could be some new piece of entertainment.

so she unfurls herself from the mossy little nook she'd been perched upon and strolls his way with long, deliberate steps. some bits of the vegetation she'd been stretched upon hang on the feathers of her fur and she purses her lips in a vague sort of smile as she draws nearer.

"{you look....}" and she trails off, pensive. bored? confused? concerned? gemini can't quite settle on a word so instead she just makes a soft sound in the back of her throat, one hip cocked and a hand lifting to drum long fingers against her chin."{who are you?}"

it’s a shame the wildflowers are hidden in winter. she’d hoped maybe a sight or two of vibrant flowers would mean the blooming wasn’t far off, but there was nothing but snow, barren oaks, and the lush green of evergreens. the chill pressed in close against her skin, drawing goose flesh and shivers wherever it touched, reminding her that this was not the warm halls of the court. here, the world was wild and courtiers rarely visited except in summertide when the fields were more romantic. still, the solace was worth the trip, even if bits of frost collected on her whiskers.

the winter sky is dark and cold and full of glimmering stars. wren stares at them as she wanders down the old path, neck craned in an effort to look for shooting stars. they, like all the other creatures of night, were her favorite and a reminder that the cursed girl was not alone in the darkness. there were stars to light her way, even if the moon did not shine. if their light shone just right her freckles glowed with them, creating galaxies and universes on her skin.

she counts the constellations as she searches, finding no stars blazing their way across the sky. yet.

and maybe it’s because she, too, is made of the night sky, but finds comfort in the quiet. here where the snow muffled her footsteps and you could hear the earth breathing, soft and quiet. it should have brought that constant loneliness to the surface of her heart, but she was at ease among the constellations and the moon. she felt safe. there was no one here to discover her secret and cast her out into the wilds on her own.

Until she almost barreled into a princess.

Wren felt her entire body tense, the hair on her neck standing up on end as she faces the matriarch’s daughter. Eyes wide and heart hammering against her chest, she forgets how to breathe and her lungs ache for it, but she’s terrified the royal might exile her away from everything she’s ever known. her eyes slips to the stranger with the princess before she remembers to bow her head, mumbling a string of apologies.

Gemini & Lorcan

This is absolute shit but w/e also typed this on my phone so beware the typos