01-02-2021, 06:40 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.
Each day spent in the Afterlife had blended together until the hours roamed past her like slow, simple creatures. Time had given her plenty to work with, and she had often found her mind reflecting back on the rosy days of her youth. Her life had seemed simple then, despite its more accurate complexities. She was the daughter of a king, she had been used as an important piece in an alliance, she had let her heart roam wherever it chose, she had spent her days recklessly chasing one adventure after another — all these had felt incredibly ordinary and yet entirely whimsical as a child. And now, as she has looked back, she has watched as they have shaped the woman she is today.
Perhaps her greatest change did not occur in her childhood, but in more recent times. Reflecting back on her youth creates a space of awareness within Wishbone; the woman she is today is certainly not the child she was. Death has given and taken away — wisdom and maturity have been gifted in exchange for carelessness and youthful fervor. Did she still long to strive forward with an explorer’s heart? Certainly. Did she still pursue the dangers of the world? She is less certain of this, mostly because she is not yet willing to return to that cold, gray world.
With time she may grow as ambitious and reckless as she had once been, but for now, Wishbone finds herself acutely aware of the differences between Then and Now.
Her amber eyes are warm with humor when Lilliana mentions the worries of her golden friend. They had spent their childhood on legs strengthened by adventures, and Wolfbane’s had often spent their days chasing after her before she fell headfirst into Death’s waiting arms. And each time (soaking wet on the beach, dirty and sweaty in the jungle, bruised and scraped at the foothills of the volcano) he had scolded her for her delirious aspirations with a look that suggested he would do it all over again in an instant.
“Too many times.” They were sassy and fierce, sharpening one another with iron and fire until they collapsed into a pile of exhausted laughter. But there was hiding too — from a father clothed in unreliable anger — and perhaps that was part of the reason she had never made it to the top. Wolfbane’s father did not love him as Wishbone’s mother loved her, and they had spent many days sneaking along the trails with quick, quiet feet so they were not caught in the blue fire of Longclaw’s rage.
She feels Lilliana’s eyes on the long strength of her legs and a soft smile finds the corners of her gold mouth. “I had shorter legs back then” — as most children do, but she leaves the complexity of her original body unspoken between them — “and it made the trip difficult. Then I grew up, moved to Nerine, and became too busy to try again.” And when she might have been free and healthy enough to try again, the twins and the Plague had decimated her mahogany body until she was only a wisp of her old self.
Wishbone knows the spark that lights in those blue eyes; mischief is a mask she has spent many days wearing. A laugh bubbles up her throat and into the humid ashen air. “Would you like to make the journey with me?” It would certainly be an interesting opportunity to bond further with the Taigan, and perhaps even learn more about the volatile goings-on of Beqanna.
Perhaps her greatest change did not occur in her childhood, but in more recent times. Reflecting back on her youth creates a space of awareness within Wishbone; the woman she is today is certainly not the child she was. Death has given and taken away — wisdom and maturity have been gifted in exchange for carelessness and youthful fervor. Did she still long to strive forward with an explorer’s heart? Certainly. Did she still pursue the dangers of the world? She is less certain of this, mostly because she is not yet willing to return to that cold, gray world.
With time she may grow as ambitious and reckless as she had once been, but for now, Wishbone finds herself acutely aware of the differences between Then and Now.
Her amber eyes are warm with humor when Lilliana mentions the worries of her golden friend. They had spent their childhood on legs strengthened by adventures, and Wolfbane’s had often spent their days chasing after her before she fell headfirst into Death’s waiting arms. And each time (soaking wet on the beach, dirty and sweaty in the jungle, bruised and scraped at the foothills of the volcano) he had scolded her for her delirious aspirations with a look that suggested he would do it all over again in an instant.
“Too many times.” They were sassy and fierce, sharpening one another with iron and fire until they collapsed into a pile of exhausted laughter. But there was hiding too — from a father clothed in unreliable anger — and perhaps that was part of the reason she had never made it to the top. Wolfbane’s father did not love him as Wishbone’s mother loved her, and they had spent many days sneaking along the trails with quick, quiet feet so they were not caught in the blue fire of Longclaw’s rage.
She feels Lilliana’s eyes on the long strength of her legs and a soft smile finds the corners of her gold mouth. “I had shorter legs back then” — as most children do, but she leaves the complexity of her original body unspoken between them — “and it made the trip difficult. Then I grew up, moved to Nerine, and became too busy to try again.” And when she might have been free and healthy enough to try again, the twins and the Plague had decimated her mahogany body until she was only a wisp of her old self.
Wishbone knows the spark that lights in those blue eyes; mischief is a mask she has spent many days wearing. A laugh bubbles up her throat and into the humid ashen air. “Would you like to make the journey with me?” It would certainly be an interesting opportunity to bond further with the Taigan, and perhaps even learn more about the volatile goings-on of Beqanna.
@[lilliana]