Re: Wren + Ana: woods
Wren had lived a year. A little more, but who counted days when the thing before was a maw that gaped empty? For all she knew, a year was all there would ever be. Maybe a line moved and inch with each sunrise, and perhaps she was forgetting things every moment, and her not realizing it at all. Perhaps she was a thing made for 365 days, and less on leap years, and perhaps that was all there would ever be for her. One year. Twelve months. Fifty-two weeks. Perhaps she was a creature impermanent. Perhaps she'd lived a year for eons, and she would never know. She'd vaguely sought answers, while not seeking them at all, and now that was changed.
Now, it was like eyes open and there was still darkness, and the decision loomed about what to do with that knowing.
She smiled at the woman, and she inclined her head. "Oui. Do come," she said warmly, though she wasn't sure the carnival was her future. She'd come there when she still hoped for memory to flow like water over a fall, and now that expectation was dashed, and she wasn't sure if the carnival would be a place for her bones to grow old and yellowed. But there was still time to think, and the ringleted blonde was not a thing made for rushing. "Et, oui. Je reviendrai."
She meant it. She would come again this way. For now, she inclined her head respectfully, her halo of sinner's curls bobbing with the respectful gesture that felt right, right, right with this woman in the woods.
And with that, she turned, and she was crunching footsteps on icy ground. One glance over her shoulder, and then she was gone.