04-12-2021, 09:11 PM
it's a mystery to me
we have a greed with which we have agreed. you think you have to want more than you need; until you have it all you won't be free. and when you think more than you want, your thoughts begin to bleed.
Wishbone feels a weight lift off her chest after telling the red mare her story. She had told Svedka about her first death in an ocean colored by the sunset, but the eclipse had taken him away (down to the earth’s depths, right before her eyes). It dawns on Wishbone that her brother might have been the only one to know her completely, at least until this very moment. Her heart twists, thinking about where the gap in the earth might’ve taken Svedka, yet Lilliana is offering a story of her own.
The purple mare’s eyes find her friend’s as she says quietly, “Of course.” Wishbone listens quietly, giving the red mare all the attention and respect she had just received. The trees of Taiga seem to dip closer as if their limbs are reaching to hear every word from their darling guardian. Wishbone leans in with them, caught in the whimsical web of life that Lilliana spins with her words.
The purple mare has always been enchanted by the world outside Beqanna, even going as far as exploring the Beyond by herself. As she listens to Lilliana, she begins to understand why the red mare had been so willing to climb the volcano. Perhaps their lives are intertwined beyond their comprehension; maybe they are grown from similar roots and have sprouted into similar trees. It makes Wishbone’s amber eyes twinkle, hearing the tender similarities in their stories and feeling the arms of kinship draw them closer together.
By the time Lilliana’s story comes to a close, the pangare feels as though she raced through her friend’s life. There is the ache of things lost, and there is the joy of what has been gained. Wishbone leans into the chestnut’s soft touch, a smile curving her dark lips upward. “I’m glad I did, too. I wanted to make sure you were okay in this darkness.” She had no plans of spilling her life story, yet it had happened, and she is grateful for it.
She returns Lilliana’s touch with one of her own, bending to brush her nose against a red cheek. “And I’m glad you’re here in Beqanna. You have quite a story, yet you’ve chosen to call these ancient woods home.”
The purple mare’s eyes find her friend’s as she says quietly, “Of course.” Wishbone listens quietly, giving the red mare all the attention and respect she had just received. The trees of Taiga seem to dip closer as if their limbs are reaching to hear every word from their darling guardian. Wishbone leans in with them, caught in the whimsical web of life that Lilliana spins with her words.
The purple mare has always been enchanted by the world outside Beqanna, even going as far as exploring the Beyond by herself. As she listens to Lilliana, she begins to understand why the red mare had been so willing to climb the volcano. Perhaps their lives are intertwined beyond their comprehension; maybe they are grown from similar roots and have sprouted into similar trees. It makes Wishbone’s amber eyes twinkle, hearing the tender similarities in their stories and feeling the arms of kinship draw them closer together.
By the time Lilliana’s story comes to a close, the pangare feels as though she raced through her friend’s life. There is the ache of things lost, and there is the joy of what has been gained. Wishbone leans into the chestnut’s soft touch, a smile curving her dark lips upward. “I’m glad I did, too. I wanted to make sure you were okay in this darkness.” She had no plans of spilling her life story, yet it had happened, and she is grateful for it.
She returns Lilliana’s touch with one of her own, bending to brush her nose against a red cheek. “And I’m glad you’re here in Beqanna. You have quite a story, yet you’ve chosen to call these ancient woods home.”
@[lilliana]