celestial_txt
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The aurora’s green falls from the sky to stain the hollows of the mask where you might look for Igeyorhm’s eyes. Ysayle does not know what to do or say. At times, speaking with her, she is reminded of Vidofnir, or any of the drakes that rest among the peaks: strange-spoken and unreadable, until you stop expecting her to act entirely as a human would. But the brush of her fingers over Ysayle’s thigh, the appraising cant of her head under the hood — any fool, dragon or man, could read those signs.
Someone had to teach Ysayle summoning.
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25 Aug 2021