Andarin: The Mountains: i have seen them riding seaward on the waves

In the oasis of their privacy, clouded by little more than the thin pine-needles that stick to their sides, she scolds him gently:

“Get up, Ash - get up…” Reaching down, she tugs at the ghost-like wisps of his mane, until he turns his rotund blue-grey eyes to hers and, mewing softly, clambers onto his aging legs. “I want to hunt,” she tells him, a glint behind her dark, dark eye, ignoring the way her words cause a shiver to run coldly down his spine and nearly shake the fortress of his young legs. But he is silent and, with only the stoic, apprehensive glare of his eyes to argue, she overtakes him again. He does not ask, Hunt what?, as he does not need to; they came to the mountains for their hunts, and even he had to admit that it had sounded like a reasonable idea. So they clamber together over crags and icy spires, the bulky mare pausing now and again to make sure his thin hooves could keep up with her rapidity - and come, as they had certainly not intended, upon the leering grey stallion.

Asher quakes in his presence, and lingers just out of sight, beyond the arms of the trees that sway and swoon over his back. He fears the crackling of static electricity just out of sight on the other’s skin, and the way his dark eyes pierce and linger hauntingly on the mare. Unabashed, he flees - not far; never far from Kairi, but far enough, that his eyes and nothing else bear witness to their haunting encounter.

His sister is less afraid. She is either foolhardy or a good actor - or, as Asher would think, both; either way, her head turns curiously to the grey stallion, and she seems to grow in stature, her dark lashes fluttering coyly. But before her parted lips have a chance to speak, a finger of his lightning reaches out and claws hungrily at her skin, and she melts.

At first she is infuriated; she thinks of Asher, wonders if he is fine, but realizes that he is trembling away from the danger and it is just her, so she smiles. Then she laughs, a harsh, abrupt sound like thunder tumbling from her lips, and she takes one step forward, nose outstretched, then another. She blinks and tips her head just so to the side, curious and amused. From her lips alight a softer sort of word - she, Kairi, daughter of none and of all, nearly purring by his side, her voice singsong and feminine - and Asher, away, trembles and frowns to hear her so; “You…” she says, coming yet closer, “do it again.”

And she smiles, a rich, full smile, tossing her head clear back to the sky and letting the light catch the scars that criss-cross around her face, “Please?”