[private] burning cities and napalm skies; irisa

[irisa]

and the walls kept tumbling down
in this city that we love

Irisa’s history is a rich one, but ultimately, she was raised in a lie.
For years, she was kept impossibly young, kept in a fantastical world where flowers grew as big as she was, where you could ride atop birds of all colors, where the world bent and conformed to every whim. She knew only sunlight, only brightness – nothing of storms. Nothing of the world that existed outside of the dreamscape – the prison.
Nothing of storms and lightning strikes.
The realization of it had been harsh, and she still has not forgiven her mother (oh, she does worry about her still, she has not seen or heard from her, and it is Irisa, now, who has the ability to shape dreams). She had been thrust into this world, where there was darkness and danger aplenty, and had been wholly unprepared.
She still is, in a way, she is naïve for her age. She’s borne no children, had no lovers (there is something – a wolfish, feral boy, but she does not call it love).

She is startled by this man’s approach, already made tense by the storm brewing above. He asks a question of her, apropos of nothing, and she blinks, considering. The description is unfamiliar, and she cannot help this stranger.
“I don’t, I’m sorry,” she says, as if she is somehow at fault for not seeing the palomino. She looks again at the stallion. He looks almost familiar, and she wonders if they’ve met before, or perhaps simply passed one another. She is about to ask when he tenses, recoiling from her, telling her to stop. She blinks again, more confused than ever. She has not touched him, nor has she tried to put him to sleep. Her eyes flick about, in case another stranger has approached, and perhaps he is speaking to them. But no, they are alone, breathing storm-heavy air.
“Stop what? Sir, I’m not doing anything…”
She feels something like fear now, an anxiety in her chest. But he hasn’t threatened her, has done nothing to suggest she’s in any kind of danger. He’s hurting, she tells herself, you should help him.
“Are you all right?” she asks, only slightly reluctantly.

Irisa

tarnished x heartworm

@[Tarnished]