✧ the stars have stolen us

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Twyla was not a fearsome soul. From birth, she was taught to obtain her faith, to hold onto it even in the midst of having nothing. It was what guided her into a new life—what guided her here, now. Perhaps she did not know them well enough, but the faith-filled woman considered them her family nonetheless. Bonds yet to be had.

But just as much as she wished to find her comfort amidst Vanderfell, she was as eager to slip out and explore beyond its boundaries. She'd heard the whisper of the falls, and seen the crest of the sun's reflection within them from her perch. It was only a matter of days before she found herself traversing the lands to get to them.

She was out before the day had even woke, the patter of her steps echoing across stone and grass as she slipped between pine and rock. The falls were louder now, echoing within the quiet of the forest. If she stilled long enough, she could feel the chill trickling beneath her skin, eating away at the confines she’d been chained to before Vanderfell.

And then there it was, the rush of a flowing river trickling over the cliff side. The cold remnants of the river’s uprising slid between the fur of her toes and Twyla practically shook with barely restrained excitement. This was closer to her Goddess than she’d ever been, and the stars practically sang sweet symphonies in time with the fall’s harmony.

So she settled along the edge, paws crossed as she took in the stars overhead.

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The sky cooed to her and the ground harmonized with the gentle beat of her heart. Here, she found peace. Here, she found light. Vanderfell was home, that she was sure, but couldn't this be also? Could she love both places and find her own solace within them? Her own passion?

Runar would hear her boast of the land once she returned. Oh, how the rivers roared and the trees stood guard, the palm of a cool, wet breeze embracing them. They were most fortunate, but she knew it to be the plan. To be the promise.

Swept into the cahoots of her faith, Twyla almost didn't hear the approaching footfall. With the slow drawl of the river at her side and the rushing falls below, it was with a hardly refrained ear that she recognized it to be heavier than any mere prey and far lighter than that of the bear she'd seen a few distances off.

Soft eyes turned, embracing the other with a gentle stare. He spoke, words she'd heard Runar utter, or ones at least similar in their manner. She thought for a moment—wondering, wanting—but she knew her answer to be true. “Never claim.” The ground, the earth, it didn't belong to either one of them. It would be selfish of her to hold the beauty of this place behind lock and key, ridding it of the attention it deserved—of the attention it craved.

“Twyla.” Her name was given in a soft means of welcome, but her attention had long since drifted back to the sky.

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“Empyrean?” She wondered aloud, a muted sigh pulling from her lips as she leveled him with a soft stare. “You have family? People - like Twyla does, like Vanderfell?” She was not so foolish as to think there were not many among this land, but to meet one—to see another from a different family. It was exciting.

Curious did her stare turn, lips curling softly. Runar had not told her of the surrounding families, of the surrounding people—did he know? Were they...friends? Brothers like the mountains were?

His question made her forget the reply to her own as a bigger smile enveloped dark lips. “Paradise.” Her eyes fell shut as she listened, as she breathed. “The water sings. Can you hear?” How it whispers in a hush around them, and below, begins to harmonize with the symphony of the rapids. Soon, she would explore beyond where she sat, but the woman couldn't seem to tear herself away.

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