"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
She is angry. Not angry in a way that one must scream or cry or rage. Not angry in a way that makes one tear worlds apart, nor in a way causes one kick and claw at the nearest unfortunate soul. Hers is a quiet sort of fury, one that builds inside her chest at the ironic injustice of her fate. One that feels like a bubble far too close to bursting, but simply refuses to.
It is uncomfortable and infuriating all at the same time.
And the worst part is, there is absolutely nothing she can do about. She had been torn from that world, the one where she had love and life and happiness. The one where she had been queen. And she had been placed back into this hollow echo, to live a life of unfulfilled youth.
She is growing, but not fast enough. Never fast enough. The gift she had been given (oh, she could so easily tear worlds apart now if she so chose) is little but a consolation prize. A thing given to sooth her wounded soul.
It is not enough. It never would be. Not when compared to what had been taken from her.
And so, somehow, she finds herself in the forest, her restless ire forcing her from her arid home. But here is no better. It is simply more green, more humid. More annoying. With a huff, the roan and white girl stops, blue eyes sweeping upwards to the offending canopy overhead. With an incredibly focused attention, one designed to take her mind off the bubble of resentment ever growing within her chest, she slowly, methodically, begins tearing apart leaves, breaking them down with only a thought until nothing but dust remains.
heartfire
i filled up my senses with thoughts from the ghosts
The lavender that colors her eyes watches as the blue and white colored girl is concentrating, brow beaded as she is thrashing the trees around her. Their limbs tremble and she plucks leaves from the tall branches. Helle continues to watch with a deep fascination as she is shredding the leaves to nothing before moving to the next.
The girl, not much younger than the other, moves forward. What did they ever do to you?" Her tones are flat as she motions to the little piles of dust. A smirk touches her pale purple lips as she shows that she is speaking in jest despite the monotone syllables. Her thin limbs pivot her form so she may further look upon the roan girl.
"I'm Helleborn." She speaks in low tones, as if sharing a secret. Amethyst eyes are trained on the other. "Can you do that whenever you like?" The inquiry is an honest one as Helle does not possess any such uniqueness despite her ombre'd striped coat. It was a rather pretty one but it did not posses the kind of power such as the other girl. Glimpses of what that kind of power could do flashes in her mind.
Trees wilting, mountains crumbling, worlds colliding...
She is paying no attention to the girl who approaches her. Her entire focus is upon the leaves she is methodically dismantling. Sunlight dapples the forest floor, washing the earth in a lovely shades of muted amber and dusky green. The pools of light are slowly growing with each leaf she grinds to dust.
So when the girl speaks, it is no surprise that Heartfire starts. A scowl is instantly tugging at her lips as eyes of pale blue jump to the intruder. Her question only serves to intensify the frown marring her features.
What had they ever done to her?”They exist,” she says irritably, her voice just shy of a growl. That she speaks in jest does nothing to assuage her temper.
The girl (Helleborn, as she has introduced herself) continues without apparent regard for the blue filly's obvious mal-humor and any potential danger she might have inadvertently placed herself in. The second question however, gives Heartfire pause.
Oh, she can do that whenever she pleases. That and so much more.
So, even if she could not do so for real, she could at least live vicariously thorough this girl. ”Oh, yes…” Before she has even finished speaking those two simple words, the roan sabino girl is gone, replaced by a young woman, a human one, with pale skin and a shock of wild red hair. But the eyes, they are distinctly hers. Brilliant, crystalline blue.
She is not real of course. She never would be again.
heartfire
i filled up my senses with thoughts from the ghosts
