@darephi
"maybe i'm crazy for claiming my freedom - for loving and leaving, a sick little heathen.” words trip lazy from silvered tongue as she combs fingers through long red hair, half-lidded eyes set not towards her companion but the stars dancing overhead in the velvety night sky. water laps at bare feet and dahut leans up on her toes for a moment, breathing air and the smell of salt and fish and sharp air.
when lithe form turns to peer sidelong at the other, it is with a smile that does not match the words. her FLIGHT had come at little choice from the once - princess, but she supposes she could have returned to shore, seen sister, seen kingdoms, seen things long dissolved to dust and memory. it is better this way ; to have not seen it at all with these new eyes.
