The sun rose softer on this side of Valoran.
Instead of harsh rays gleaming on bloodied harbors, the light here danced ballets through thin curtains of mist, painting the still ocean with delicate pastel hues. The spectacle wasn’t one to be captured with mere charcoal and parchment, try as Quinn might.
From her perch atop a tall ship’s mast in a Demacian marina, the horizon seemed to wrap around her on either side. It reminded her of flying; the way Valor’s wings stretched out across her peripheral, familiar, comforting. But now, she was embraced instead by nostalgia. How could she have forgotten these mornings?
In her youth, they had so often been her solace after Caleb’s death; secret moments, stolen while everyone in the world but her and Valor slept. The only sounds to be heard were the rustling of rope in the ocean breeze, and the gentle splashing the calm tide. There was none of the creaking or clanking characteristic of Bilgewater’s ports; no, these warships were far too finely crafted for that.
In this fragile silence, Quinn relished long-forgotten sensations. The rocking of the mast in rhythm with the waves, the tickle of the wind as it brushed hair against her skin, the warmth of the rising sun on her melancholy smile. In a small act of boldness or serenity, Quinn lowered the hood of her cloak. The present risk of being seen fell away, surrendering to the sweet tug of memory.
She recalled sunrises from the coldest winters and warmest summers, and she recalled too how her feelings of loneliness and love had moved in tandem with the seasons. She heard voices that carried like childhood lullabies, and saw faces like unfinished paintings. But there was one face that reflected clear in the landscape before her.
Eyes as radiant as the flooding of morning’s light, skin as soft as the caress of the air, a gaze as tranquil as the vast sea, and beneath it all, a longing as sure as the swaying of the tide.
With a bittersweet sigh, she gave up trying on her drawing, and tucked her journal away in the folds of her cloak. Hugging her knees to her chest, Quinn instead let herself be enraptured by the dazzling view, as if it were the last time she’d ever see it. Perhaps it would be. Perhaps she’d forever leave these secret moments behind her, with the childish hope that a kindred soul might find them, and see Quinn’s own face reflected in the sea.
But what novelty would the Lady of Luminosity find in a sunrise?
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