01-24-2020, 01:31 PM
take my soul & make it undone
be the one, be the one to take me home and show me the sun. i know, i know you can bring the fire, i can bring the bones. i know, i know you'll make the fire, my bones will make it grow.
The loud roar of the ocean silences the sounds of feet approaching her, but when Wishbone raises her head to scan her surroundings again, her eyes land on a familiar rose-and-ivory face. Time has passed since she has last seen Eurwen, and Death had also frozen Wishbone from aging. Though her friend had been several years younger during their last visit, the pair look to be similar ages now. Wishbone’s lips curve into an ecstatic smile, even as Eurwen approaches hesitantly.
“Eurwen!” The rasp of her voice is genuinely warm as if the force of her greeting could eradicate the confusion that flashes across her friend’s face. “It’s me; Wishbone.” For a moment she closes her eyes, taking in the sheer joy of it all — she is alive (breathing and beating and moving), she is home (cold and passion and roughness), and Eurwen is here. How much time had she spent pacing the line between Life and Death, daring it to open from the force of her sheer passion? How many years have gone by in her absence, and what is the state of Nerine now?
When her eyelids slide open, a hundred questions are bubbling at the edge of her lips. She knows Eurwen will need a bigger explanation than just her name… And eventually, she will learn of Beqanna’s history while she’s been dead. “I died, Eurwen,” she says plainly. Wishbone doesn’t care to elaborate on the circumstances of her death, but she will announce the simple fact that it happened. “And I’ve just come back from the dead, but in this new body.” Her long, dark shape turns in a slow circle, an abyss among the light of the snow and ice.
As she ends her circle Wishbone studies Eurwen’s face, looking at the ways that time has made it older, harder, and prettier. “How have you been? Where have you been these past years? And what has happened to Nerine?”
“Eurwen!” The rasp of her voice is genuinely warm as if the force of her greeting could eradicate the confusion that flashes across her friend’s face. “It’s me; Wishbone.” For a moment she closes her eyes, taking in the sheer joy of it all — she is alive (breathing and beating and moving), she is home (cold and passion and roughness), and Eurwen is here. How much time had she spent pacing the line between Life and Death, daring it to open from the force of her sheer passion? How many years have gone by in her absence, and what is the state of Nerine now?
When her eyelids slide open, a hundred questions are bubbling at the edge of her lips. She knows Eurwen will need a bigger explanation than just her name… And eventually, she will learn of Beqanna’s history while she’s been dead. “I died, Eurwen,” she says plainly. Wishbone doesn’t care to elaborate on the circumstances of her death, but she will announce the simple fact that it happened. “And I’ve just come back from the dead, but in this new body.” Her long, dark shape turns in a slow circle, an abyss among the light of the snow and ice.
As she ends her circle Wishbone studies Eurwen’s face, looking at the ways that time has made it older, harder, and prettier. “How have you been? Where have you been these past years? And what has happened to Nerine?”
@[Eurwen]
I'm literally the worst at replying; I'm so sorry!