LET MY PEOPLE GO / typhoon visit

[aine.]

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— aine | the pitt | fae druid —

Da.  The child blinked as she found herself pulled away from Fourthwall.  Eyes still shining bright with curiosity, she bounced on her father's paws, shifting her weight around.  It seemed as though the captain knew Miss Argus, which Aine found interesting, head flashing between the two.  The tension in the air made her bite the inside of her cheek.

Brief concern brought her gaze towards her father, head tilting up.  The fact Goldenluxury knew Gaelic caught her pleasantly surprised, wondering if now that Argus was gone (what a strange interaction, oh well), she would hear more in her native tongue.  Unfortunately, such failed to happen.

Instead their ardent Jervis arrived on scene.  Aine bit back a sigh, ears flicking as he spoke.  Always so flamboyant.  Well.  At least that meant she could sit back and listen without attracting too much attention to herself.  So many eyes afterall.  Her own remained on Goldie for the time being, growing attuned to her father's growing wariness.

Before more words reached her, she caught something in the wind.  Instinctively her nose twitched, wrinkling in confusion and distaste.  A strange memory resurfacing. Smoke.  Burning, burning.  Everything burning.  Everyone burning. 

Even as a new, angrier voice caught in the wind, her ears flattened.  Why fire? Why the smoke and lies?  Was everything burning?  A frightened whimper.  Then lightning.  Closer, brighter, than anything she'd seen before, but she's moving, or her father is moving.

Her father is speaking, but she flattens beneath him.  She didn't like the fire.  She didn't want anymore fire.  No more storms or lightning.  No more smoke.  Enough smoke.  "Da?"  Make it stop. Make her go away.  Suddenly the golden lioness was not so pretty anymore.  No.  She was scary.  Mean.  Make her leave.

— I'll come back when you call me —