raindrops on roses

life was moving slower than ever before - her paws had numbed into nothingness, her ears were flat against the white noise of the world, her pair of lavender orbs pale and colder than the snow against her fur; she felt as if she had died but her soul had remained trapped on earth. it was a strange thing, the strangest thing to ever occur in the short life of armai, but she felt as though she'd lived before - it was something like a deafening confusion had consumed her, the blankness that was her sight had grown to cloak her other senses as well.

what was the point of anything?

strangely, absurdly even, the fae child had ceased in her tireless tailing of her sister, she'd long since quieted the whining that was her signature sound and she had been avoiding her father and calder all day, though she'd usually have tried wrestling them into a snuggle by now ... armai had begun to wonder why she was blind but her family was not, why others seemed to mope incessantly with nothing to mope about at all; she remained joyful and bright while she had a reason to grumble. she grew angry as these thoughts danced like faeries in her head, but outwardly she remained still, curled in a silvery bundle beneath the soft leaves of a low tree branch. she quite fancied the outside and the snow now - she had outgrown the safety of the ship, and was perhaps now outgrowing the coddled lifestyle she once loved so much.

her mind began to wonder, frivolous and disinterested, where her father was. she enjoyed his company most, out of anyone she shared a home with, and even now, in this moment of complete nothingness and serenity, she wanted him around. alas, she could not reach her neck up to look for him, but she could listen, and she could smell, and so she did. she even broke the dense silence with the hoarse, yet sweet, chirp of a pup calling to her father.