Straia;

[Straia]

sometimes we want what we want --
    -- even if we know it’s going to kill us.

”Do you blame them?” she asks. Perhaps the faeries did have short fuses, but were they off base? If she is being honest, perhaps they are not. She had not cared for the damage done to the lands they were made to protect. She had taken life with nothing but a thought, life that they serve. She had created panic and chaos and destruction simply for the sake of it, and for no other reason. Did she feel bad about it? Not particularly. But she could understand the response of the faeries.

She rises from the hot spring as he speaks, so reminded of the fire that once lived in her veins. She is still herself, but a changed version, aware of what happens when your time has run out. Then again, she always knew her time was limited. She’d never sought immortality, but rather a legacy for the once evil kingdom. That had seemed far more permanent back then, but even that too had been taken from Beqanna.

As it turns out, nothing is forever.

She chuckles lightly. ”You do remind me of myself, in many ways. Though not all.” She stretches, yawning in pleasure from the steam bath. ”You have much to learn, as I did. Though you will. For now though, it is time for me to go. You will be able to find me again, though.” And with that, she disappears.

-- straia

the raven queen