to find a mockingbird.

Alaine Winters · 08-26-2010, 05:04 AM

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table © Jacoby <3
no problemo! :3 and thanks! wc: 300+

Her arrival seemed to have made the other woman nervous. Perhaps, Alaine wondered, the stranger had been craving the solitude that she herself had departed to find. How peculiar that fate should bring two wandering pairs of feet here, to this time and place specifically. Two souls joined by irreducible wounds to the heart and mind. Her soft jade and emerald eyes gazed patiently upon the other, twin pools of mineral stone, ancient in their depths but young in the frame of her doggish, pixie-like face.

At her suggestion the ivory lady began to shake her head, but to Alaine it seemed not a dismissal but a denial, a self-containment, a dam to the building walls of grief that she could see seeping out from the she-wolf's every pore. Still rubbing at her tender leg muscles gingerly, the Apothecary waited patiently. When the woman spoke, her voice was soft, lovely - It had not to it the harsh ring that many high-speakers had, the hollow accent that sounded distasteful to the foreigner's floppy ears. Instead, it was low and mellifluous, the chiming of mourning bells. Her excuse was left hanging in the air, as the milk-and-cream damsel merely waited, her gaze lingering still on the other's prone form.

Then, her heart did spill out, for just a brief moment when control slipped and the truth was told. That same truth hung there, fouling the air with it's unbelievable horror, the nightmare conjured by a simple loosing of the tongue. Alaine's previously concerned but mellow gaze became acutely sharp, a horrible twisting starting beneath her breast as one mother, momentarily, felt but a pinch of the overwhelming loss of another. To lose a loved one was always a terrible thing, a painful thing, but by nature? Death was the course of things. The old passed on and made way for the new. But for a parent to outlive their child, that was always a tragedy. Unaware that she had done so, Alaine released a quick and horrified exhale, her body freezing slightly.

There was little to be said. A soft silence fell once more. Alaine would have offered sympathy, but to be sorry was usually a hated thing, and to be felt sorry for was even worse. She knew it by having lived it.

"That is... That is an evil thing that has been done," An indignant pain swelled within her for this other nameless woman. The deeply embedded scars in her shoulder, a branding from her own past, tingled in reminder. "Your loss is terrible, croimáthair." She rose silently and took a few elegant steps towards the other, wanting to offer something, but knowing not what; She would offer her ear, if the other wished still to speak, and her shoulder, if tears were to be shed.

Alaine Speaks

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