"You'll need more time."
A flustered figure cringes underneath a cold cloak-
"Since you haven't changed at all."
-fingers biting down into the scars on her palm.
The damage dealt wasn't something she would normally hold unto -she had grown up particular with memories and the mistakes that grip along. Situations like these were uncalled for in the faces of failure, at least, that's what she lied to herself once before. Wing digs her heel into the soft pile of grass beneath her soles, light dew sprinkling across her face from the notion's force. She felt distinctly out of place, somehow, almost as if her frustration was a bright forest fire, burning....melting her slowly. The natural monotone of rustling leaves and ice-y whispering winds standing alone as the last sense of tranquility.
The dew drops on her face start to trace dry tear paths across her cheeks, sliding off her chin like sparse droplets. Perhaps she was glad she couldn't cry at that point, then again, those warm blue tears held her only comfort from the onslaught of self-induced depression. Wing hadn't gone through a steep cliff-side of torture to snuggle and cry, though, she was human enough to understand the circumstances of wasted time. The faint dark circles under her eyelids blend into her skin as she looks up at the slowly setting sun -finding the intensity of the orange-to-red colors encouraging. She smiles, wiping dew drops with the sharp of her wrist off her face, "I am weak, I know that, Miss Altair." Wing bundles part of her cloak in her hand, throwing it off her shoulder with an ungraceful peel, "But thanks to that....I have a reason to grow stronger." The fabric settles unto the wet grass, lifeless, defined for it's brown color against the strokes of green, and marks it as the remnant of her folly.
"I won't fail trying to get better, Miss Altair, I know that much."
At half past seven in the afternoon, silence is illuminated by a waxing crescent. The mountain sides are barren, cold with the sense of night. But this kind of peace spelled out her determination, an agreeable vigor for post-woe momentums. The great 12th might have stabbed her criticism into her soul from her performance yesterday, but it wasn't enough to damper her optimism entirely. Her lips hummed a gentle wake-up tune to the tiny starling sleeping in her bag, silently amused as Celesse stretches up lazily.
"Good Morning Miss Wing~" she yawns, gingerly rubbing an eye. "Is it time for your training?" Her master gives a weary laugh as a response, another noise out of the night's moment.
"...I've always had time, I just never had the initiative, nor the time to think of what I'd do with it."
Celesse would probably never understand what Miss Wing wanted to convey, but her confidence was something that made the little starling's happiness, part of it at least.
"Mm, okay~ So up we go then~"
Wing's breath hitches at the sharpness of cold night air.
"Here we go!"
But her eyes flare to the sight of the lights that scatter across her vision, almost at her reach, and so her hands grasp for it, hopeful.
"Next time....won't be as you think it will, master."