nightmare + discovery [★] melancholy

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— aine | the pitt | fae druid —

Smoke and flame dance into the open air, a life-threatening duo of burning, swirling light and choking darkness.  The meadow burns.  The ashes like autumn leaves drift down.  Crackling and splintering and the roar of fire deafen every sound.

The meadow burns.  Everything the dancing flames touch fades to dust.  Her cheeks burn.  Salt on her tongue.  Blood in the air.

Someone calls her name.  Aine.  Lottie.  Aine?  Aine? Her tiny paws, the color of soot, root to the dying grass beneath her.  Dark ears, the color of charred bark, pin back against her skull.

She's moving, but not towards the sound of her name.  Someone's waiting.  Someone's trapped among the shattering trees.  "Alaire!" The brief flash of hazel eyes lost in a sea of blood orange.  A child's cry.  A dangerous growl.

This was an orchestrated attack.  Someone started the fire.

"Alaire!" The petite fae sat upright, scrambling on unstable paws.  Soot. Aine thought maybe her red fur was burning.  Burning.  Burning.  Everything... Her eyes sting, vision blury.

She'd been dozing in a patch of sun.  A dream.  Just a... Memory.  Alaire.  Deartháir. At her trembling feet, the ground begun to crack.  Plants begun to sprout, flourishing into a rainbow of colors, fueled by an outburst of unknown power.

"..." Her head hung.  Hazel hues dim.  Broken.  Afraid.  So much time spent waiting, glancing behind in the hopes to familiar faces would finally catch up to her.  Gone.  Burned away.

They weren't catching up were they?

[ Mobile ]

— I'll come back when you call me —

[div style="width: 450px; line-height: 12px; text-align: justify; font-family: georgia; font-size: 8pt;"]— 'cause I'm only a crack in this castle of glass
The disruption of soil caused his ears to perk.  The strange splintering sound was unique enough to draw a bemused expression across his face.  The resident bookworm closed his current novel, frowning as he rose to his paws, stretching his legs as he did.  Who...?

Aine cries out and Embry moves, quickly and quietly to the smaller fox's side.  Alaire. Her brother, he already knew.  Embry shouldn't however.  The swift fox could only guess as he watched the ground grow in plant life exponentially.  She's manipulating the earth.

"Aine?" His accented voice grows soft in an unusual attempt of gentleness.  He understands nightmares. "[abbr=do you want to talk?]Ar mhaith leat labhairt[/abbr]? It's okay if not.  Do you see what you can do, child?" It was quite impressive.
[align=right]hardly anything left for you to see — EMBRY