✧ prayer

The waterfall had spoken to her, she was sure of it. Questions of her faith, questions of the world, of the stars, it answered her with the various lulls or uproar. It spoke to her through sprays that lurched upward, splashing her gently in chastization, through the gentle brush of fish against her paw as they fled down a path they hadn't meant to.

And through the light that was given, she responded with her own. Uplifted with gentle laughs, freed with the release of time away from the expectations she'd made of herself back upon Fate's Summit. She was home in an entirely different sense. Like amidst the stars or the friendly souls of Vanderfell, she was comforted by the unsaid. By the peace.

Her voice was soft as it left her, her chin settling over the wet strands of grass and rock upon the earth's edge. The water brushed her nose but she was undeterred. “Se qēlossās? kessa nyke sagon lēda zirȳ arlī?” — And stars? Will I be with them again?

Now, she was simply a stranger looking in, face pressed against the glass with a desperation to grasp what was inside. She danced with the stars once, when she was not quite ready to appreciate the chance, but she had yet to taste the opportunity again. Yet to taste anything but the sight of them within the sky. Despite her faith, they were daunting, still.

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just a little aw, welcome to anyone!

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Since he had first awoken, Ilya had taken to wandering this landscape of harsh cliffs and great pines. He had kept to the dry, open ground of the pine forests, seeking his prey among scattered ferns and wiry vine maples that branched beneath the conifer canopy. Still, his nose told him that fish were plentiful in the rivers. Eventually, he could no longer resist his stomach.

He found the bony remains of a bobcat's catch in the woods. Nothing left for him, but he followed the trail back to the river where the cat had gotten its prize. Yet as he crested a small cliff overlooking the riverbank, he caught a different scent. At once he was uncertain. Did this river belong to someone else? He was usually careful to keep his distance from pack wolves. For his own good, and theirs; no one needed a great oaf like him sticking his nose into their business. Or, perhaps, the stranger was a wanderer like him.

Curiosity got the better of him, and he slowly made his way towards the figure silhouetted by the glittering rapids. Something made him stop. There was much he did not understand about these lands, but he thought he recognized the same gravity of someone kneeling in prayer. She spoke, though he did not recognize her words.

His steps quiet and careful, he sat down near her by the water's edge. He bowed his own head in prayer, his nose almost brushing the water's surface. Ilya did not know if he still believed, really. Even if he did, his affliction damned him. A beast would never see the gates of Heaven. Yet some part of him still felt compelled to try, repeating words long since instilled in him:

“Lord, deliver us from fear of the unknown future, from fear of failure...” he whispered, his voice too quiet under the rush of water to be clearly heard by anyone but himself.

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@Twyla
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