stranger than earth

her heaven is only half alive
i fell asleep in his, but he could not breathe in mine

Jendayi was stoic, but she was not cold-shouldered. His humor eventually began to wear down the stoic barrier she had long erected, and her walls began to tumble down, to reveal a gentle softness underneath. A part of Jendayi she did not know she had long missed. A small smile took form on her saccharine lips, and a giggle tailed the end of his exclamation of her name. Yes, that is me, she seemed to want to say, I am Jendayi. The name felt much better in a lighter tone, she decided. It did not carry such a heavy weight when it was spoken in lighter terms—it did not seem like the prison it once had. Practice, he says, and Jendayi nods. It had taken her far too long to learn how to hunt and fend for herself to realize not all things came naturally. She had long accepted where her strengths were and where they were not, and accepted his words with some kind grace, something unusual for her age (but Jendayi was forced to mature early on, having been on her own for so long). Practice, then, she decides, and as he speaks she begins to move and stabilize her legs in many manners, until she finally found her balance. Her claws unfurled into the ice, and kept her steadied enough to stay upright.

He makes mentions of his bloodline, and immediately the small smile forming on Jendayi’s lips falls just a little. The thought of family always hurt her, and although prideful of where once she came she felt the overwhelming desire to still push it all away. She could hide what she could, but always would Jendayi be a creature of the forest—of lush greenery and thick-woven canopies, bright golden light flittering through dancing leaves and pine needles. She resembled the deer, the long-legged and pale-furred wolves of the evergreens. She was not meant for wintry climates, but it was perhaps her favorite place so far. She had spent much of her time in the north now, and had long grown to love the endless white; it distracted her from her thoughts of home. It is only his mention of swimming that takes her away from her thoughts of the past; one thing Jendayi had learned since she had let it all behind was that she very much loved the water, no matter how cold, or harsh, it was. “I might take you up on that challenge, so that you might see me in my element, rather than this awkward mess,” she admitted boldly, her clever grin returning.

He ambled his way closer to her, but this time, Jendayi was not spooked by his approach. She watched him with almost curious eyes, her golden gaze searching the pale frost of his own. His suggestion prompted a small quirk of her brow, the idea of falling onto him more daunting than the heat that rose in her cheeks at their closeness. Jendayi had always welcomed touch (perhaps far more than most other wolves) but having been separated from it so long spurned a new heat in her. “Uhm…okay,” she responded softly, the hesitance in her tone clear in her movements as well. Although light, Jendayi would still be a weight to bare if she’d fallen onto him, so she starts smoothly and slowly. Her shoulder braces against his own, and while she places no weight on him (save for the few times she loses her footing, and she must), she slowly begins to amble across the ice at his side. It is much easier, she decides silently. Her legs remained wobbly and unsure, but the protection of his presence makes it that much easier.