[private] Knowing where the rocks lie - Drear - Printable Version
+- Beqanna (https://beqanna.com/forum)
+-- Forum: Explore (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=1)
+--- Forum: The Mythical (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=80)
+---- Forum: Mountain (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=77)
+---- Thread: [private] Knowing where the rocks lie - Drear (/showthread.php?tid=27327)
Knowing where the rocks lie - Drear - Eurwen - 06-25-2020
the secret of walking on water
is knowing where the rocks lie
Her trek down the mountain is one of sadness and crushed hopes, of failure and disconnection. Her mother is gone more than ever; either she is not in Beqanna, or she is dead, or if she isn’t, then she is the mare her brother met and she is not herself any more. Eurwen can’t tell which would be worse, and so, she has decided not to go look for her.
It’d be worse than meeting fairies who don’t make time for her any more.
She tosses a rock, watching it fly; but right before it hits the ground, she stops it. No. It belongs here, not wherever her moody kick had sent it - and she places it right back on the ground where she found it. At least, she thinks wryly to herself, the fae hadn’t taken away what they had given her once before. She heard they could do that, and she should be thankful. She was still herself - the girl who had run after the fairies to help and cure the whole world long before she ever thought of curing herself.
But what is a sense of self worth, she wonders, if that self is isolated? Without her kingdom, friends, and family - even the lost ones - she isn’t anything at all. A lone giant tree is more vulnerable than a flower surrounded by others - if they’re different or the same, doesn’t matter. Shouldn’t matter.
Still she feels like she misses something. Would a trait fill the gap? Of course not. But an emotional magic like her mom’s might have helped her understand.
A little, that is. Just a little.
She sighs and looks back up the Mountain, expecting its icy, windy peak to be a bastion of stubbornness - but instead, a small figure makes it’s way down, not too far behind on her gangly legs. Eurwen blinks at her, her pink-dotted face hiding her own feelings behind a mask of maternal openness and curiosity. It’s like that, that she waits, half-turned, mid-step, ears perked - let it not be said that she turns a cold shoulder on anyone.