my soul is in the sky
She has never know anything but the wild wind, has never lived except as a servant to herself, has communed only with the birds and the clouds. Rae knows her world, and she knows it well. What she doesn’t know is the world she stands on now, but oh, how she has watched it, wondered as it, envied it in a way. How could she be like them though, when she was so unlike them? Yet, was she truly so different? Here was this mare coming apart at the seams and yet she ruled a kingdom, found roots somewhere even in the midst of such impossible change. Rae did not understand the purpose of the war (she may not have been in it, but she certainly didn’t miss it), but she wondered about it constantly.
Simply put, she wondered what it would be like stay.
She laughs though as this mare called her birds kind. “Some of them are kind, yes,” she says, leaving the rest unsaid but obvious enough. Her birds were much like her, wild and improbable and they served only themselves (they served her as a favor and as a friend only when it suited them, and she never forced them). It is sometimes a kindness to be noteworthy, and other times not. In this case, Rae was not sure if it was either, but rather simply that this mare was something other and in need. The details were lost to Rae, but the edges of it were clear enough. You didn’t need to be magic to see truth, if you knew how to look.
The next question is innocent enough, but Rae is silent for a long moment, her eyes too drifting to the horizon she knows all too well. It’s a horizon she lives in, and she has circled the world so frequently she has begun to wonder what is left that she has not yet see. What is left, really, is the ground. “I don’t know. I have begun to wonder what it is like to have roots. How do you do it?”
Funny, that this mare envies what Rae considers giving up. Funny, that Rae has begun to long for what this mare considering shedding.
Everyone always wants what they do not have.
rae
@[leliana]