The winter chill of the castle long behind her, Meadow can feel the sunlight long before anything else. It's comforting, brilliant, she can feel it on her face and on her back. It fills every part of her system, a weighted blanket. Restful, peaceful, all of the things here are golden. The sounds aren't too loud, the colors aren't too saturated, and everything is filled with light. Nothing could get her here. She's safe.
And through the sleep she can hear it. A voice, cadence not unlike her mother's. It seems to slip its hand through hers, as much as a voice could do. She knows this voice, or at least, her soul knows it. Shining eyes flicker open, curious and soft. Everything here seemed to make sense, and she did too. Her head quirks softly to the side as she climbs to her feet, movements seemingly weightless. As her gaze finds the woman, she gets the same sensation as catching her reflection in a puddle. Knowing. Understanding, like a part of you is looking back.
She takes a slow step towards the woman, and then another. Closing the gap with more ease than she can ever recall approaching a stranger. They really did have much to discuss.
