08-21-2021, 09:53 PM
liesma
She does not glow the same in the daylight.
So she goes chasing the darkness, where she can find her glow again.
She abandons the meadow for the shadows in the forest, just barely escaping from beneath the nearly unbearable weight of her father’s watchful eye.
(Does her father know that his sleep is plagued by nightmares? She stays up and watches him sometimes. He is so restless in the night that she tries to pull the stars down around him, tries to wrap them around his shoulders, tries to force them to lend him some comfort.)
She is old enough that she should not have to pretend, she thinks. She should not have to sneak. She is old enough that she should have some freedom. But her father is such a serious man, somber, intense. So protective sometimes that it feels like they’re both fighting for breath.
(He could easily go running after her now, as she flees the meadow and disappears into the forest. Perhaps it’s her mother that talks him out of following after her. Perhaps he only makes a show of being protective. Perhaps he only wants her to think twice before she goes.)
But she is a thing meant to glow. She is a thing of the night. She cannot stand the sunlight, she never could. So she plunges into the relative darkness of the forest, casting herself into the crushing shadows. Her glow is pale here, but it is better than nothing.
She is not a narcissistic thing. No, do not mistake this for vanity. It is a matter of feeling like her true self. Just as her mother had not felt like her true self until she’d gotten her wings. Her mother had known she had been meant for the sky and Liesma knows that she is meant for the darkness. It is that simple.
She exhales a contented sigh, tucking her wings tightly against her sides, casting her pale glow into the darkness as she wanders. It is only when she feels certain that she is not alone that she stops, casting an imploring glance into the shadows pressing in around her.
“Come out,” she calls softly into the darkness.
So she goes chasing the darkness, where she can find her glow again.
She abandons the meadow for the shadows in the forest, just barely escaping from beneath the nearly unbearable weight of her father’s watchful eye.
(Does her father know that his sleep is plagued by nightmares? She stays up and watches him sometimes. He is so restless in the night that she tries to pull the stars down around him, tries to wrap them around his shoulders, tries to force them to lend him some comfort.)
She is old enough that she should not have to pretend, she thinks. She should not have to sneak. She is old enough that she should have some freedom. But her father is such a serious man, somber, intense. So protective sometimes that it feels like they’re both fighting for breath.
(He could easily go running after her now, as she flees the meadow and disappears into the forest. Perhaps it’s her mother that talks him out of following after her. Perhaps he only makes a show of being protective. Perhaps he only wants her to think twice before she goes.)
But she is a thing meant to glow. She is a thing of the night. She cannot stand the sunlight, she never could. So she plunges into the relative darkness of the forest, casting herself into the crushing shadows. Her glow is pale here, but it is better than nothing.
She is not a narcissistic thing. No, do not mistake this for vanity. It is a matter of feeling like her true self. Just as her mother had not felt like her true self until she’d gotten her wings. Her mother had known she had been meant for the sky and Liesma knows that she is meant for the darkness. It is that simple.
She exhales a contented sigh, tucking her wings tightly against her sides, casting her pale glow into the darkness as she wanders. It is only when she feels certain that she is not alone that she stops, casting an imploring glance into the shadows pressing in around her.
“Come out,” she calls softly into the darkness.
i see you shining through the treetops
But i don’t feel you pulling strings anymore
But i don’t feel you pulling strings anymore
@nazghul