Solira: The Ocean: || to KRATOS

I wonder if he will remember me. We were friends, weren’t we? He liked me, didn’t he?

Maybe loved me, but only because I was his sister.

I wonder if he will still like me, even when I am hideous and dark and pessimistic.

I wonder if he will still maybe love me.

*

Irene sought out her brother because he was the only remainder of her former life. She had enjoyed her childhood (besides a few parts, but those were quickly erased from her memory—except for the heat. she would never forget the heat), and the kinder parts of her heart clung desperately to Kratos. She obsessed over him, thought of her conversations with him, would close her eyes just to see him again.

Through the burning, he was one of the few reliefs she could find.

He was bigger than before. She often forgot that he too had been young, still developing into a grown stallion. She had not matured much beyond two (she liked to think that the flames had stunted her growth), and was quite small as she stood beside him. Beyond this, they maintained similar characteristics in their structure. Yet while Kratos sported lovely, silky hair across his dark flesh, Irene was hairless—a new installment in her appearance—save for a few wispy strands that lay from her mane and tail.

”You are still here.” Though her voice had deepened a bit, it was no less awkward as it hit the spring air. The words were choppy and poorly spoken, like a young foal just learning to maneuver its tongue. She sighed, hoping that he would take over the conversation; words took too much effort. ”What made you stay, mijn?”

She had not said the word in so very long, and it left a smile on her lips, a calm happiness in her eyes.

IRENE
Solira || Spy || Air III

There's a saltwater film on the jar of your ashes;
Slv. Alshain x Gld. Notte