06-30-2021, 11:51 AM
she looks like sleep to the freezing
This, the natural progression of things.
She could not have survived in the heat of Tephra. No, she is made for and of winter; she belongs here in this land of snow and ice.
She does not (cannot) say goodbye to the sisters she leaves behind. As much as it pains her to abandon them, she cannot risk returning to Tephra to do so. So, she only hopes that they know that she loves them and begins her journey from the dark, cold heart of the forest. Even in autumn, she leaves a trail of snow in her wake as she travels.
For days she travels, through Taiga and Nerine. Up to the coast, where she calls upon the cold to freeze the stretch of water separating the Isle from the mainland so that she can cross. But there must be some mistake because the stretch of beach here is barren, black and bare. There is no ice here, no snow. She glances over her shoulder at the rapidly melting ice behind her, watching as it dissolves into the sea.
Had she somehow gone astray? Where could she have strayed off course? Is this not the northernmost land? Snow collects around her, as it is wont to do, even without her having to call upon it but this is snow that belongs to her alone and has nothing to do with the landscape itself.
She resolves to rest here awhile before she returns to the mainland and tries to figure out where she made the wrong turn that led her to this strange land that she had thought would be the Isle but cannot possibly be.
She could not have survived in the heat of Tephra. No, she is made for and of winter; she belongs here in this land of snow and ice.
She does not (cannot) say goodbye to the sisters she leaves behind. As much as it pains her to abandon them, she cannot risk returning to Tephra to do so. So, she only hopes that they know that she loves them and begins her journey from the dark, cold heart of the forest. Even in autumn, she leaves a trail of snow in her wake as she travels.
For days she travels, through Taiga and Nerine. Up to the coast, where she calls upon the cold to freeze the stretch of water separating the Isle from the mainland so that she can cross. But there must be some mistake because the stretch of beach here is barren, black and bare. There is no ice here, no snow. She glances over her shoulder at the rapidly melting ice behind her, watching as it dissolves into the sea.
Had she somehow gone astray? Where could she have strayed off course? Is this not the northernmost land? Snow collects around her, as it is wont to do, even without her having to call upon it but this is snow that belongs to her alone and has nothing to do with the landscape itself.
She resolves to rest here awhile before she returns to the mainland and tries to figure out where she made the wrong turn that led her to this strange land that she had thought would be the Isle but cannot possibly be.
camellia
