03-20-2021, 07:20 PM
(This post was last modified: 04-04-2021, 09:27 PM by flower.
Edit Reason: i needed my html :(
)
<link href="https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Lora&display=swap" rel="stylesheet"><style type="text/css">.flower_container {position: relative; z-index: 1;width: 600px;background: #796363; font: 11px 'Lora', serif; line-height: 1.5; border: 1px solid #3f2823; box-shadow: 0 0 10px #3f2823; }.flower_container p { margin: 0;padding: 0;}.flower_message {text-align: justify; padding: 15px 20px;color: #3f2823;}.flower_name {font-size: 28px; color: #802121; }.flower_quote {position: relative; z-index: 10;top: -10px;color: #3f2823; letter-spacing: 3px; }</style><center><div class="flower_container"><div class="flower_message">She is surprised by the weight that settles inside her chest when the group divides for their separate purposes. She had known it would happen, had even understood why, but it is hard to watch the smaller groups (families, friends) being pried apart by the differing moral compasses within every heart. When it is just those like her who felt drawn to distract, she allows herself a moment to let her pale golden eyes wander over each face, studying them until she is sure they are committed to memory, six new constellations against the midnight of her mind. She only wishes she had names to pair them with.
When the fairy speaks, Flower’s attention returns to her. She doesn’t smile or nod, hardly even blinks at the news that they will journey into the afterlife. But the pit in her chest widens and she wonders again about the family she had chosen to leave behind, all the goodbyes she had kept buried away inside herself. It’s hard not to wonder if she should’ve given them away first.
The fairy lifts her leg, and like an enchantment that seems too lovely for the task at hand, a path unrolls into the dark all aglow with soft light and hope. She doesn’t mind that she needs to be quiet, doesn’t even mind that she needs to draw as little attention to herself as possible. That has always been easy, and she cannot imagine death would change that.
Like each of the others she places herself on the glowing path, and when the membrane wavers just before her, the afterlife a presence she can feel in her chest like the color grey, her steps slow. It is a hesitation not born from doubt, but from the yawning unknown of what comes next. But she hardens her resolve and with her chin lifting higher, she thrusts herself into the afterlife.
It feels like dying.
It feels like grey loneliness, like a strand of forgotten memories, like all the laughter sucked out of a moment.
It feels like nothing matters anymore, and for a moment she is flat and broken and dead-eyed at the world around her that seems so void.
But purpose rises in her, a flame not quite smothered, and she blinks and gasps like she is breaching the surface, like she had been drowning and only just realized she needed to breathe. She looks around and fear strikes her like a drumbeat as she realizes that she is alone. It didn’t matter that they had all been strangers, some part of her hoped they would be able to stay together. She blinks again, gold eyes all aglow, every fissure in the red glass lit by the light of the path beneath her.
Movement to her left draws her eyes as she realizes there is someone there after all. But it is not one of the faces she memorized, not familiar at all, and she frowns softly without meaning to at the dark mare muttering to herself. <i>“Are you alright?”</i> Flower asks before remembering she was meant to be quiet, to go unnoticed, but she might as well have held her tongue for all the good her question had done. The woman just babbled about wings and stones and old bones, about children and monsters and bad dreams - and even after Flower tried to leave her, the old woman followed beside her for a while until the strange cackle became an almost comfort in this empty place. <b>“Shining, bright, mine. Made this, all mine.”</b> It was all nonsense and Flower felt badly for the old mare, but it didn’t keep her from feeling a pang of loss when her stranger suddenly melted away into the hazy grey-dark again with just a gentle touch to her hip in farewell.
She couldn’t help but to feel like she had misunderstood the woman somehow.
Still, she stays the course and keeps the glowing path beneath her, grateful for the way it feels like a tether to the other side, to her purpose. There is something about this place that whispers in her ears and fills her thoughts with static, something that makes her feel quiet and complacent like there is nothing beyond this. Nothing more to worry about. She wonders if the others can feel it too, wherever they are, but she hopes they cannot. It is a kind of erosion that she isn’t sure her heart can withstand, something she is sure will stay with her for as long as she exists. She hopes it won’t be as long as the mare who had followed her, the madness was frightening.
<b>“Do you know where the mountain is?"</b> The voice is so abrupt and so suddenly close that Flower all but cries out in surprise. But when she turns and her eyes find the silhouette of a girl in teal and sunset colors, with iridescent wings and a face carved from stone and into flawless perfection, Flower can only smile.
<i>“Hypatia!”</i> Flower steps closer, eager to embrace her old friend, but it is as though Hypatia does not recognize her, perhaps does not truly even see her.
<b>“I think I’m lost.”</b> The words are matter of fact, though Flower can hear a note of odd desperation as the beautiful girl looks around herself almost blindly. <b>“Do you know where the mountain is? I heard the call, did you?”</b> But the madness, though subtle, is enough to keep Flower quiet now as she looks on with a knot in her chest at the girl who clearly did not realize she was dead. Had it truly happened on the way here? Had Flower walked past her dying body without even realizing it? <b>“Hello?”</b> She says again, as empty as an echo. <b>“I think I’m lost. Do you know where the mountain is?”</b>
There is no life inside her now.
Pain is a blade and it carves great swathes of faith out of Flower’s chest until she is nothing but flayed doubts and distrust, nothing but wishing she were as empty as her best friend's eyes. How could someone like Hypatia die, while someone like Flower lived. It was a cruelty that death had found Hypatia before she could crush it, a cruelty that death had shown Flower the cost of letting her heart care for someone so mortal. She would stay with Hypatia if she could, but the path beneath her feet is like a beacon drawing her on, her friend a reminder of what all there is to lose.
So she leaves the girl who is still asking for the mountain, still clinging to life even in death despite the madness it brings her. And when the path splits and Flower must make a choice, she hesitates only for a moment before turning towards the sound of water that whispers in the same voice as home. The river is an instinctive choice. It is only when the path ends and the pain catches up to her again that she remembers what the fairy had asked. So screams and she shouts and she allows all that hurt to pour out of her, and she is glad now to be on this path alone.
</div><p class="flower_name">FLOWER</p><p class="flower_quote">i'm only steady on my knees</p></div></center>
When the fairy speaks, Flower’s attention returns to her. She doesn’t smile or nod, hardly even blinks at the news that they will journey into the afterlife. But the pit in her chest widens and she wonders again about the family she had chosen to leave behind, all the goodbyes she had kept buried away inside herself. It’s hard not to wonder if she should’ve given them away first.
The fairy lifts her leg, and like an enchantment that seems too lovely for the task at hand, a path unrolls into the dark all aglow with soft light and hope. She doesn’t mind that she needs to be quiet, doesn’t even mind that she needs to draw as little attention to herself as possible. That has always been easy, and she cannot imagine death would change that.
Like each of the others she places herself on the glowing path, and when the membrane wavers just before her, the afterlife a presence she can feel in her chest like the color grey, her steps slow. It is a hesitation not born from doubt, but from the yawning unknown of what comes next. But she hardens her resolve and with her chin lifting higher, she thrusts herself into the afterlife.
It feels like dying.
It feels like grey loneliness, like a strand of forgotten memories, like all the laughter sucked out of a moment.
It feels like nothing matters anymore, and for a moment she is flat and broken and dead-eyed at the world around her that seems so void.
But purpose rises in her, a flame not quite smothered, and she blinks and gasps like she is breaching the surface, like she had been drowning and only just realized she needed to breathe. She looks around and fear strikes her like a drumbeat as she realizes that she is alone. It didn’t matter that they had all been strangers, some part of her hoped they would be able to stay together. She blinks again, gold eyes all aglow, every fissure in the red glass lit by the light of the path beneath her.
Movement to her left draws her eyes as she realizes there is someone there after all. But it is not one of the faces she memorized, not familiar at all, and she frowns softly without meaning to at the dark mare muttering to herself. <i>“Are you alright?”</i> Flower asks before remembering she was meant to be quiet, to go unnoticed, but she might as well have held her tongue for all the good her question had done. The woman just babbled about wings and stones and old bones, about children and monsters and bad dreams - and even after Flower tried to leave her, the old woman followed beside her for a while until the strange cackle became an almost comfort in this empty place. <b>“Shining, bright, mine. Made this, all mine.”</b> It was all nonsense and Flower felt badly for the old mare, but it didn’t keep her from feeling a pang of loss when her stranger suddenly melted away into the hazy grey-dark again with just a gentle touch to her hip in farewell.
She couldn’t help but to feel like she had misunderstood the woman somehow.
Still, she stays the course and keeps the glowing path beneath her, grateful for the way it feels like a tether to the other side, to her purpose. There is something about this place that whispers in her ears and fills her thoughts with static, something that makes her feel quiet and complacent like there is nothing beyond this. Nothing more to worry about. She wonders if the others can feel it too, wherever they are, but she hopes they cannot. It is a kind of erosion that she isn’t sure her heart can withstand, something she is sure will stay with her for as long as she exists. She hopes it won’t be as long as the mare who had followed her, the madness was frightening.
<b>“Do you know where the mountain is?"</b> The voice is so abrupt and so suddenly close that Flower all but cries out in surprise. But when she turns and her eyes find the silhouette of a girl in teal and sunset colors, with iridescent wings and a face carved from stone and into flawless perfection, Flower can only smile.
<i>“Hypatia!”</i> Flower steps closer, eager to embrace her old friend, but it is as though Hypatia does not recognize her, perhaps does not truly even see her.
<b>“I think I’m lost.”</b> The words are matter of fact, though Flower can hear a note of odd desperation as the beautiful girl looks around herself almost blindly. <b>“Do you know where the mountain is? I heard the call, did you?”</b> But the madness, though subtle, is enough to keep Flower quiet now as she looks on with a knot in her chest at the girl who clearly did not realize she was dead. Had it truly happened on the way here? Had Flower walked past her dying body without even realizing it? <b>“Hello?”</b> She says again, as empty as an echo. <b>“I think I’m lost. Do you know where the mountain is?”</b>
There is no life inside her now.
Pain is a blade and it carves great swathes of faith out of Flower’s chest until she is nothing but flayed doubts and distrust, nothing but wishing she were as empty as her best friend's eyes. How could someone like Hypatia die, while someone like Flower lived. It was a cruelty that death had found Hypatia before she could crush it, a cruelty that death had shown Flower the cost of letting her heart care for someone so mortal. She would stay with Hypatia if she could, but the path beneath her feet is like a beacon drawing her on, her friend a reminder of what all there is to lose.
So she leaves the girl who is still asking for the mountain, still clinging to life even in death despite the madness it brings her. And when the path splits and Flower must make a choice, she hesitates only for a moment before turning towards the sound of water that whispers in the same voice as home. The river is an instinctive choice. It is only when the path ends and the pain catches up to her again that she remembers what the fairy had asked. So screams and she shouts and she allows all that hurt to pour out of her, and she is glad now to be on this path alone.
</div><p class="flower_name">FLOWER</p><p class="flower_quote">i'm only steady on my knees</p></div></center>