i’m rich and I’m pretty, so it doesn’t really matter

Princess’ reaction is what initially alerts Elara, who lifts her head in the direction of her companion’s fixed stare. and there, materialising like a figment of her imagination, is Barghest. El blinks, momentarily uncomprehending, at the woman before her. it’s like looking at a clone of her mother - except stronger, muscles bunching under that grey and white pelt, armour strapped across her back. there’s a self-possession in the way she moves, betraying skill and technique. it’s the largest real thought El has before her sister is closing the gap, snuggling into her embrace. Elara gives a wet, hiccuping laugh and smushes their faces together, breathing in Bargh’s comforting scent.

“hiya, Estie,” she whispers, and there’s such relief and joy in her tone that her voice trembles with it. “been a while, huh?” despite the attempt at levity, she sniffles again and scrubs at her face. after long nights spent alone and cold, her sister’s warmth is a divine fucking blessing. El isn’t particularly spiritual, but she sends up a silent thanks to whoever might be watching up there. her sister, returned to her.