#🌝 i simp for them idc /

[aurasong]

[ run ] ╱ OOP, blood moon au 🌝

♡ @interitu​

It’s always quiet inside - always. She hasn’t known anything other than the silence for so long - she lost track of the years long ago.

Time is immeasurable in the beyond.

Her eyes widen at the violent magnetic pull she feels, and she’s so focused on the chasm opening above─shining lights of reds and violets down on her─that she completely misses how the darkness loses its grip on her so easily.

The tendrils slide off her limbs, and for the first time in an indefinite amount of time, Sona can raise her hand, and look at the texture of her palms, of her arms.

Her body moves on instinct - already knowing what to do as she rises from the confines of the inferno - and like the ink staining the grass beneath her is a part of her.

Her hands raise in front of her, and the etwahl itself begins to form from the droplets of ink at her feet - where smooth strokes form a painted sigil. Her sigil.

Claws pluck experly at the strings, and a short, eerie tune carries forth an auric strike at the foe across from herself and her summoner.

The summoner she has not yet looked at. A click can be heard behind her, and Sona turns her head. A gaze of glowing azure remains fixed on the masked one.

Oh? He’s reloading. For good measure - as there are no other humans in sight. For now.

She turns her attention away from him again, and examines the instrument before her. Not her harp from her time alive as a human - but something else, that she knew like the back of her hand somehow.

As though it were part of her. Like... Her soul had been split in two.

Sona plucks gently at the strings again, another eerie tune following the movement of her fingers. Though there is no flinch or evidence of his touch having startled her, her music instantly comes to a stop. Her hands freeze.

Something as insignificant as the light stroke of her hair is bringing her a comfort she has not felt in... However long. For reasons unknown, it almost repulses her to crave it again.

It has been so long─

The maven of strings cuts herself off, realizing then that... He could hear her. Curious.

But her voice was not an auditory thing, no. It was more intimate than that. Telepathy.

It has been so long since the last time she felt something, she'd wanted to say - but not in the presence of another. That would be her secret alone.

I want to know the name of he who calls for me, her voice booms in his mind again - courteous, but firm.

non-verbal prompts / accepting !