She is a ghost drifting along the Tephran shores. Or nearly so, betrayed only be the footprints she leaves behind. But even those vanish quickly, washed away by wind and water. The path had become almost familiar, even as hope turned ashen on her tongue day after day.
It would be so much easier to forget. She tries (oh how she tries), but memory is such a stubborn thing. It clings and burrows, ripping open wounds every time she imagines she must be close to discarding them.
But there are so many now, it sometimes grows muddled. She lives for those times. For days like today, when her mind grows hazy, eyes glassy and distant. When she can feel not quite a part of herself, as though she might float away while her body lives on, empty and unfeeling. It is on these days that she finds herself wandering. That the borders of her beach do not feel like a tether holding her in an infinite loop of broken hope.
It isn’t until her hooves sink into mud as chilly water licks at pastel blue fetlocks that she returns to herself. She isn’t certain whether it is the water or the distant shadow that snaps her back, but whatever it is, she settles into a breathless stillness as the darkness looms. It is only when the shape resolves, wide wings flaring to slow a rapid descent, that she breathes again.
When he lands, face lifting to the sun, only then does she unravel the cloak of chill around herself, clumsy and unpracticed. Instinct giving way to rational thought. She feels too much like an intruder here. As unwanted and unnecessary as she has been her entire life. It’s so much easier to shrink away, to tuck her head and whisper the apology that comes easily to her lips. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude.”
Make me a promise that time won't erase us
That we were not lost from the start
Rapture
@[yadigar]