She races the wind. Tendrils of blonde hair breaking loose from the intricate braids she sat through only an hour ago having piled on her head. Arms out, fearless, for a few seconds, as the wind rips through her, before she laughs and digs her fingers into the dark mane of the horse beneath her, leaning back in.
They say she flies: small, and golden, and fearless. Just like her name. Nothing short of a good fight makes her feel this free. Nothing.
Her heart is high in her chest, beating against the back of her throat, through quick breaths in and out her nose, as they break through the emerald trees and the foreground explodes into an endless horizon of ocean every shifting blue and silver no gemstone could ever even dream of one day becoming. The world is gorgeous beyond even dreams here.
The shining brilliance of Paradise Island reflected in ease and exhileration as she sweeps her gaze down the beach she'd broken on to. The endless smooth sand of -- Καναρίνι's brow furrowed on a black form, huddled to the beach. Her heart hard with shock and a trill of fear. Had one of her sisters fallen? Who would have even been on patrol this morning?
"Go! Now!" she cried, and the back of her boots don't even need to drive in, because the horse is already obeying as her. Joyful sprint turning fierce in that one heartbeat. Fast as it had been earlier. No, even faster. Need driving necessity. They're still at a gallop when she launches herself off. A trained tumble, through the air, into the sand, and with one expert hand, she's right back up on her feet running.
She's halfway to there, when she can see too clearly. It's a man. A man on Paradise Island. In direct opposition to Aphrodite's, Law. Still, Καναρίνι approached, hand reaching for the blade at her belt, even as the sword at her back called out more. But he didn't look ready to spring. Not even with the knife clasped in his hand.
He looked half-dead, blood saturating him and the sand all around him.
It's the last step within ten feet from him that makes her heart jerk hard. The word pulling from her lungs with ice, to the scent salt and blood. Hitting as hard as though he'd lodged that dagger between her ribs.
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They say she flies: small, and golden, and fearless. Just like her name.
Nothing short of a good fight makes her feel this free. Nothing.
Her heart is high in her chest, beating against the back of her throat, through quick breaths in and out her nose, as they break through the emerald trees and the foreground explodes into an endless horizon of ocean every shifting blue and silver no gemstone could ever even dream of one day becoming. The world is gorgeous beyond even dreams here.
The shining brilliance of Paradise Island reflected in ease and exhileration as she sweeps her gaze down the beach she'd broken on to. The endless smooth sand of -- Καναρίνι's brow furrowed on a black form, huddled to the beach. Her heart hard with shock and a trill of fear. Had one of her sisters fallen? Who would have even been on patrol this morning?
"Go! Now!" she cried, and the back of her boots don't even need to drive in, because the horse is already obeying as her. Joyful sprint turning fierce in that one heartbeat. Fast as it had been earlier. No, even faster. Need driving necessity. They're still at a gallop when she launches herself off. A trained tumble, through the air, into the sand, and with one expert hand, she's right back up on her feet running.
She's halfway to there, when she can see too clearly. It's a man. A man on Paradise Island. In direct opposition to Aphrodite's, Law. Still, Καναρίνι approached, hand reaching for the blade at her belt, even as the sword at her back called out more. But he didn't look ready to spring. Not even with the knife clasped in his hand.
He looked half-dead, blood saturating him and the sand all around him.
It's the last step within ten feet from him that makes her heart jerk hard.
The word pulling from her lungs with ice, to the scent salt and blood.
Hitting as hard as though he'd lodged that dagger between her ribs.
"Ollie?" Impossible. That face. He's long dead.