The first time she heard the moon sing, she was five. It wasn't the sky's doing, but the voice of something older, hiding behind it
Rohini Sharvara stirred from underneath the silk sheets, the constellation painted ceiling shifting above her, the subtle glow of the Zinari script waking her. The moonlight hadn't left with the night. It never did.
She sat up gracefully, bare feet brushing against the cool stone floor. The shadows in the corners of her room were just a little too deep. Too still. Somewhere,a quill twitched on her desk as the scent of lotus petals lingered in the air.
Her reflection in the glass across the room shimmered slightly, catching her serpent- grey of her eyes in the dim light. Her hair, short and wavy, fell below her ears streaked with pale silver strands reaching her shoulders- the Thread of the Moon's Eye , as her family whispered. A Mark. A blessing. A curse.
I should have moved the strands last night, she thought, running her hand through the mess, turning the silver strands into pale and short bangs. Better for now Rohini thought as she moved around toward her clothes.
She slipped on a dark green robe over her shoulders,tied with practiced ease, the robe complimenting her warm sun washed bronze skin, and reached for her ring.The ancient family crest gleaming as she slipped it comfortably on.
She moved around the quiet halls of the family estate, her footsteps silent on the polished floors. Morning light filtered in though the high windows, but the air held its breath, as if the walls themselves were lying in wait.
The ornate doors to the family dinning hall opened without a sound. She didn't need to knock- this room already knew her, and her blood.
Her mother was already seated, perfectly composed with a half-read letter in one hand, teacup untouched before her. Her posture spoke of power, a woman used to watching every word,every moment. Her father leaned causally at the other end of the table, flipping through the pages of something far older than the paper it was printed on, his ink stained fingers drinking his cup of coffee.
They both looked up when Rohini entered -but not in surprise. She was never unexpected, nor unwelcome here.
Rohini took her seat at the long obsidian- wood table, the chair warming subtly beneath her as it always did-attuned to her presence.
She reached for a slice of buttered bread and poured herself a cup of chai from the enchanted kettle that hummed low and familiar. Before she could take a bite, her mother glanced up from the letter and spoke,tone even and unreadable.
"You shifted the silver," she said, not quite a question. "A change of pace?"
Rohini shrugged one shoulder, brushing the newly shaped bangs from her eyes.
"It was getting in the way"
She didn't elaborate, and her mother didn't press.
Her father made a soft nose behind his cup,eyes scanning over Rohini without concern.
"No illusion," He noted. "That was you. Fluid as ever"
Rohini smiled faintly, lips barely curving. Compliments in this house rarely came dressed as such. Especially from the short-spoken man
Her hand wraps around the warm teacup, her body collected its warmth as she took a sip.
"I'm heading into town today," Rohini said, as if announcing she were going for a walk. "Haven't visited the shops in a while."
Her mother didn't look up from her letter this time.
"Sunreach has been restless," she said lightly. "Some say it's the weather. Others…"
A pause. Then a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.
"Just be careful what you listen to. Or what listens back"
Rohini raised an eyebrow, amused.
"Always''
Her father chuckled under his breath.
"If anything does come looking," he said, as he flipped another page on the old tome. "Remind it whose daughter you are."