3/10/2025, 2:23 AM
'I am sorry. Sometimes, those you know will also be transported here. There is a chance to find him again, even if you do not find your way home.'
She hoped so—gods, how she hoped.
Everything she knew was back Home. But now that she was here, what use was it to chase ghosts? To waste time on empty prayers, clinging to the impossible?
No, she would see him again.
For now, though, Francis seemed helpful. Sympathetic, even if she didn't need it.
Her eyes sharpened, drawn back to his figure as he offered a near-bashful shrug.
'The Imperium Aurum - our lands were not too dissimilar from these moors. Lots of open plains, rolling hills, and the occasional mountain range. We were one significant power amongst a few in the area, and I their crown prince.'
"Prince, huh?" Takala offered a playful nudge into his shoulder, albeit a less than graceful attempt due to their size difference. Back Home, titles like his were rare—fanciful things spoken of in stories her father once told. Tales of wolves beyond the mountains, wolves of prestige and power who never knew the struggles of the wilds just beyond their borders.
"I've never met a Prince before," the woman murmured, drifting her attention to the valley, mirroring his. 'Here, I am just Francis, though.'
A twinge of something—pity, perhaps—settled beneath her ribs. It seemed she was not the only one who had suffered loss.
'If you wish, you can tell me of your homelands, Miss Takala. A piece of it can thrive even here in our memories.'
The name—'Miss Takala'—sat oddly on her ears. Foreign. New. She decided she liked it.
"Well...." She hesitated, scanning the land as if seeking some fragment of familiarity to anchor herself to."...it's mountainous, cold. Everyone is a lot more... forward than you, Francis." The cold air became electric with the sound of her laughter, even if short-lived. Her family was a boisterous bunch. Opinionated but close-knit, raising the young and standing by her father through his every hardship. Her brother had never been the confident one, yet memories of him remained warm, untarnished. As with the others. All but Yenna.
A moment of quiet lapsed. For a moment, she considered what her family would think of Francis. Her father would appreciate his kindness, she thought.
"There were no 'sheep' back home, though. What are we looking for? Is it like a deer or more like a hare?"
note: Yenna is her mother's name, she does not call her "mother" due to their strained relationship.
She hoped so—gods, how she hoped.
Everything she knew was back Home. But now that she was here, what use was it to chase ghosts? To waste time on empty prayers, clinging to the impossible?
No, she would see him again.
For now, though, Francis seemed helpful. Sympathetic, even if she didn't need it.
Her eyes sharpened, drawn back to his figure as he offered a near-bashful shrug.
'The Imperium Aurum - our lands were not too dissimilar from these moors. Lots of open plains, rolling hills, and the occasional mountain range. We were one significant power amongst a few in the area, and I their crown prince.'
"Prince, huh?" Takala offered a playful nudge into his shoulder, albeit a less than graceful attempt due to their size difference. Back Home, titles like his were rare—fanciful things spoken of in stories her father once told. Tales of wolves beyond the mountains, wolves of prestige and power who never knew the struggles of the wilds just beyond their borders.
"I've never met a Prince before," the woman murmured, drifting her attention to the valley, mirroring his. 'Here, I am just Francis, though.'
A twinge of something—pity, perhaps—settled beneath her ribs. It seemed she was not the only one who had suffered loss.
'If you wish, you can tell me of your homelands, Miss Takala. A piece of it can thrive even here in our memories.'
The name—'Miss Takala'—sat oddly on her ears. Foreign. New. She decided she liked it.
"Well...." She hesitated, scanning the land as if seeking some fragment of familiarity to anchor herself to."...it's mountainous, cold. Everyone is a lot more... forward than you, Francis." The cold air became electric with the sound of her laughter, even if short-lived. Her family was a boisterous bunch. Opinionated but close-knit, raising the young and standing by her father through his every hardship. Her brother had never been the confident one, yet memories of him remained warm, untarnished. As with the others. All but Yenna.
A moment of quiet lapsed. For a moment, she considered what her family would think of Francis. Her father would appreciate his kindness, she thought.
"There were no 'sheep' back home, though. What are we looking for? Is it like a deer or more like a hare?"
note: Yenna is her mother's name, she does not call her "mother" due to their strained relationship.
