03-25-2023, 01:57 PM
yes i know that love is like ghosts,
few have seen it but everybody talks —
few have seen it but everybody talks —
She hadn’t expected the quest at the mountain to change her the way that it had.
She has heard stories, as gone through her own share of transformations—but none had come from the mountain. Even though it crossed her mind a time or two to go to the mountain and plead her case, to beg any who might have the power to do so to rid her of the whispers in her mind and of the ghosts that constantly haunt the edges of her vision, she had never actually done it. It felt selfish—there were others that had it far worse than her, and they bore their burdens in silence.
She had been acquiesced to do the same.
She would not beg for a relief she did not think she deserved, and so when she had followed the call of the sprites, it was not because she hoped they might reward her.
It takes her a few days to realize the changes that took place.
At first she had assumed the dizzying electric-feeling in her veins was an after effect of the portals and all the time jumping, as if her bones were still learning how to be grounded in reality. But the humming sensation never left, a quiet but incessant pull that seemed to be urging her to do something.
It was not until she commanded the ghosts to be quiet—and they listened—that she realized there was something different. It was not until she learned that she could make them disappear from sight by seemingly willing it that she realized the sprites had rewarded her.
The relief that floods through her is a physical thing, one that almost makes her knees go weak, as she breathes a shuddering sigh. She could control it now. She would be able to find peace, she would be able to help when she wanted but she would not be shackled to her gift, powerless to its ways.
She walks through the darkest parts of the forest with a newfound lightness, the weight that she had been carrying evaporating. There is a glow that radiates from her—an actual beacon of light that she manifests from somewhere inside of her, guiding her through the darkness. She did not know the depths of this new gift, but she found that, unlike the last time she had something bestowed upon her, she was looking forward to seeing where it led.
She does not notice the angel that also haunts the forest, does not notice the soft, ethereal glow emanating from just beyond a thicket of trees. Even if she had, she would not have been afraid. Angels are nothing to fear, especially not her own grandmother.
She has heard stories, as gone through her own share of transformations—but none had come from the mountain. Even though it crossed her mind a time or two to go to the mountain and plead her case, to beg any who might have the power to do so to rid her of the whispers in her mind and of the ghosts that constantly haunt the edges of her vision, she had never actually done it. It felt selfish—there were others that had it far worse than her, and they bore their burdens in silence.
She had been acquiesced to do the same.
She would not beg for a relief she did not think she deserved, and so when she had followed the call of the sprites, it was not because she hoped they might reward her.
It takes her a few days to realize the changes that took place.
At first she had assumed the dizzying electric-feeling in her veins was an after effect of the portals and all the time jumping, as if her bones were still learning how to be grounded in reality. But the humming sensation never left, a quiet but incessant pull that seemed to be urging her to do something.
It was not until she commanded the ghosts to be quiet—and they listened—that she realized there was something different. It was not until she learned that she could make them disappear from sight by seemingly willing it that she realized the sprites had rewarded her.
The relief that floods through her is a physical thing, one that almost makes her knees go weak, as she breathes a shuddering sigh. She could control it now. She would be able to find peace, she would be able to help when she wanted but she would not be shackled to her gift, powerless to its ways.
She walks through the darkest parts of the forest with a newfound lightness, the weight that she had been carrying evaporating. There is a glow that radiates from her—an actual beacon of light that she manifests from somewhere inside of her, guiding her through the darkness. She did not know the depths of this new gift, but she found that, unlike the last time she had something bestowed upon her, she was looking forward to seeing where it led.
She does not notice the angel that also haunts the forest, does not notice the soft, ethereal glow emanating from just beyond a thicket of trees. Even if she had, she would not have been afraid. Angels are nothing to fear, especially not her own grandmother.
Narya
— spirits follow everywhere i go,
they sing all day and they haunt me in the night
they sing all day and they haunt me in the night