i can’t stop you putting roots in my dreamland --
She did not come from a place of hardship.
While her homeland was not quite as vibrant and brimming with magic the way this place seems to be, it had still been a place full of light and its own kind of charm. She had been sheltered from adversity and darkness, shielded with a naivety that she did not realize the rest of the world was meant to break. It wasn’t that she thought bad things didn’t happen. She knew that with life there came death, but with her sheltered upbringing that’s all there was. She did not come from a place of kingdoms and politics, of the constant struggle for control and power. They all lived and existed and eventually died, but everything that happened in between felt stale.
And so thinks she has stumbled across some kind of paradise, a piece of heaven she had found beneath misty clouds with its rolling hills and wildflower meadows—and a sense of magic that hung in the air like electricity just before a storm.
She is still busy taking it all in, distracted but with that smile—so faint her lips have hardly moved, but it shows instead in the brightness of her eyes — on her face. She can see some others in the distance but she is suddenly overcome with a somewhat uncharacteristic shyness, and also a hint of unease. For the first time since landing it has occurred to her that perhaps newcomers were not welcome here; perhaps a place so lovely and perfect did not wish to be tainted by the outside world.
She is startled by a voice, and when she turns to find no one there she feels a knot of nerves begin to gather in her chest. Was this some kind of trap? Had this land lured her in with its lovely views only so its invisible monsters could sink their teeth into her?
That idea felt foolish, and not only that but she immediately feels guilt at assuming the worst about someone’s intentions.
“Thank you,” she says, her light colored eyes looking up, and then turning herself in a circle before coming back to stare again in the direction the voice had come from. “Um…” there is a slight frown that colors her face, her wings fluttering nervously as she says with a soft laugh, “I’m really sorry, but I can’t….see you.”
She did not come from a place of hardship.
While her homeland was not quite as vibrant and brimming with magic the way this place seems to be, it had still been a place full of light and its own kind of charm. She had been sheltered from adversity and darkness, shielded with a naivety that she did not realize the rest of the world was meant to break. It wasn’t that she thought bad things didn’t happen. She knew that with life there came death, but with her sheltered upbringing that’s all there was. She did not come from a place of kingdoms and politics, of the constant struggle for control and power. They all lived and existed and eventually died, but everything that happened in between felt stale.
And so thinks she has stumbled across some kind of paradise, a piece of heaven she had found beneath misty clouds with its rolling hills and wildflower meadows—and a sense of magic that hung in the air like electricity just before a storm.
She is still busy taking it all in, distracted but with that smile—so faint her lips have hardly moved, but it shows instead in the brightness of her eyes — on her face. She can see some others in the distance but she is suddenly overcome with a somewhat uncharacteristic shyness, and also a hint of unease. For the first time since landing it has occurred to her that perhaps newcomers were not welcome here; perhaps a place so lovely and perfect did not wish to be tainted by the outside world.
She is startled by a voice, and when she turns to find no one there she feels a knot of nerves begin to gather in her chest. Was this some kind of trap? Had this land lured her in with its lovely views only so its invisible monsters could sink their teeth into her?
That idea felt foolish, and not only that but she immediately feels guilt at assuming the worst about someone’s intentions.
“Thank you,” she says, her light colored eyes looking up, and then turning herself in a circle before coming back to stare again in the direction the voice had come from. “Um…” there is a slight frown that colors her face, her wings fluttering nervously as she says with a soft laugh, “I’m really sorry, but I can’t….see you.”
-- my house of stone, your ivy grows, and now i’m covered in you
allaire.
@arcturos