( WATCH THE WEATHER CHANGE ) -- open

[kakuzu]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,400,true][bg=FFFFFF][atrb=cellSpacing,1,true][atrb=cellPadding,20,true] mention something, mention anything While the world sleeps, the night grows old. Beneath the expansive reach of the great Redwoods, silence is heavy, though the forest is sluggishly awake with the low thrum of nocturnal life. Into the towering canopies above the moon plunges her trembling fingers. Like milk spilling through ink, pale silver burns a guiding trail, blooming in the darkness to alight the worn paths on the olden ground. There, stealing through the umbra with a deftness native to wraiths, dwells Ophelia and Dahlia. Without the wan sheen of moonlight, their dusky figures bleed into the void of nothingness that surrounds, faltering from view altogether within the deepest of shadows. The sisters stray from the vein-like paths leading throughout, winding instead about the wood in a serpentine motion that pushes and converges their separate trails, drifting them further into its heart. Like the scant fireflies wafting around them, they move in silence, flickering to life within the illumination before being swallowed again by the night. The gentle lull deserves to be broken, so Dahlia seizes the opportunity. "Eastern is our priority?" Ahead of her, Ophelia pauses. Halted on a slight incline with the roots high beneath her forefeet, she casts a glance back at her sister. Her eyes glimmer a hooded auburn. "As I've gathered, the Earthen kingdom is the only sovereignty that governs free of transmundane affiliation." Despite Dahlia's comprehending nod, a sardonic smile curves her lips. "In terms you might understand... no devils for you to go cavorting with." Dahlia smiles out a scowl. "One time." They continue on, Ophelia's laughter soft. Contented silence falls, but does not last. Several moments later, Ophelia speaks, thoughtful in all her seriousness, "Things are different here, Dahlia – more blatant. We'll stay out of reach – out of hazard's way." A nonsensical statement if there had ever been one. Ophelia knows as well as Dahlia that any true threat, blatant or otherwise, is inescapable. Dahlia figures, eyeing her quiet twin, that that sounds as if she's only trying to convince herself. God knows she won't convince Dahlia, cynical, practical Dahlia, of such a thing: security is unattainable. Security is laughable, when the interested threat is of a kind far more unnatural than you could imagine. But if Ophelia is content to pretend otherwise, for now, she will let it lie. A wind comes tumbling through the massive trunks then, rustling the underbrush into a hushed whispering. It brings a chilled shudder to Ophelia's skin. When their ambling paths meet, Dahlia brushes down her sister's length, breath mingling upon her low exhale before she swiftly presses her forelock upon Ophelia's neck. She ignores the bothersome tickle of her twin's mane fluttering gently against her ears. Weakling, she breathes in playful admonishment. The skin that trembled beneath her touch stills, and Dahlia is pleased, her sister's discomfort banished. Surprised by the unforeseen affection, Ophelia wickers her fondness. So entrammeled in the quiet moment are they that caution is forgone. The gale rises. OPHELIA & DAHLIA words: 506 tag(s): ophelia & dahlia, open for anyone. notes: I've always been terrible at opening posts x___x