[seasonal event] to find a soul somewhere

amalia chandrakant there is a color that shines through your skin Like the moon on the wind There has never been much of by way of water in the Hollow, only the Oasis and a handful of streams. Once, Amalia had imagined these to be rivers: now she knows how naive she was, to compare look upon rivulets and think them a flood. This is water in all of its glory, expansive and dangerous, beautiful and deep. Part of her wants to dive into the cool of it, feel it wrap around her body, be weightless and at ease. A smarter part is too afraid: what if she sinks down to the bottom, joins silt and sand and fish below? The baker has little experience with swimming- not surprising, given the Hollowed Ground's landlocked state. She has waded in the Oasis, once or twice venturing out to where the water grew deep, but never alone and never for long, unsure what to do with her body as the cold water takes the lead, how to move against the current, how to stay afloat. It is this fear which keeps her on the shore, only toes within the water, though she aches to be submerged. Jyoti has no such trepidation. The invisible currents she swims across in the sky are not, she thinks, much different than this. And so before the girl could speak against it the whale was submerged, diving jubilantly into the deep. A heartbeat, two, and Amalia considers leaping in, her own inability to swim be damned. Better to die saving her bonded then let the whale drown, live with the loss, wild and bereft, a hole which shan't repair. So she thinks, and so she plans, until a moment later when the calf emerges, starlight and water dripping off her form. Delight radiates keenly off the starwhale: Amalia finds her anxiety replaced with blessed relief, a laugh drawing musical from her lips, the weight of terror mercifully released. With a silent warning of caution the girl settles into sand, leaning on a boulder, content to watch her soulmate swim beneath the LongHeat sun. She does not expect to find Deimos here, and so she does not see him, his dark figure hidden on the other side of stone. Sitting barefoot, Amalia hums a languid tune, the words half-remembered from earlier days. "LongHeat time, and the livin' is easy. Flinthoppers jumpin', and the bloatbeetles fly! Oh, the trees have fruit, and the fields have barley, So hush, little baby, don't you cry. One of these mornings, you're gonna rise up singing And you'll spread your wings and you'll take to the sky But till that morning, there ain't nothin' can harm you With Vi and Safrin watching from on high." the night is full on behalf or your evaded mask And the rings round your eyes

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