The air felt thick with essence, a sensation that did not bother 'herself' despite its density. Elua er Goltbred's body was quite different, smaller and lighter than Qatrand's own, with lean and strong muscles that hid themselves underneath the layers of softening fat and healthy springy skin. Her mind, too, was different… but the emotion of it was immediately, intimately familiar. Enough to forget for just a few seconds that they were different people.
Sharp and constant 'longing', an *ache* that had become so integrated into daily existence that it barely registered as acknowledged pain anymore. Just the permanent state of being separated from something essential, for reasons that felt imperative to her. But still, a name repeated like an echo bouncing throughout the walls of her spirit like a ringing tinnitus… a mantra and promise present in every moment of awareness.
'Qat'.
