05-25-2016, 11:47 PM
It has been twenty-two years since goodbye. Two decades, more than half my life so far, and I can't live the rest of it in stasis, hoping for a glimpse of you, a moment with you, a touch from the body you abandoned and destroyed so even I couldn't put you back together. I am always going to love you, beautiful. You will always be in my heart. But you gave that heart back to me a long time ago, and you were right to. It took me a long time to listen. A long time, some tough love from our Drow, a few years in a very different jungle among humans who share some of my gifts, but I finally hear you. Rest in peace, love.
My lips touch the jungle earth where I laid her bones to rest, and a lingering weight in my chest eases as I let go of what used to be, what might have been, what still could be if only. It's not fair of me to hold on any longer, to try to force a dead woman down any path but the one she chose to travel. The one her soul needs, no matter how much I wanted otherwise. Mine has needs too, needs that don't include pining over a dead lover and wasting away into nothing without her by my side. No matter how hard I tried to fight it, somewhere along the line I finally moved on.
You were right, Drow. I needed this. He's a wise man, my son, and his wisdom was earned through turmoil and pain. He has grown so much from the volcanic young man who tore himself apart day after day, taking his heartbreak out on his body. Scars burned into his skin for years have finally faded, and he did it all for his little girl. For himself. And for me, giving in scar by scar to my soul's need to heal those old wounds in my loved ones...and in myself.
Oh, my body survived the devastation I wrought upon it, survived the aftermath of goodbye and countless other hurts, but each of them left marks on my soul. Marks I was too stubborn to notice, too focused on clinging to the tatters of my love to see. I fell in love as a desperate, lonely young girl who still believed somewhere deep beneath the wild jungle child exterior that I was unlovable, unwanted, good for nothing unless I was needed. All of my choices were made for us, for her, for our family. For the Jungle. For anyone but myself.
I loved her so ferociously, held on for so long and with everything in me. And I wouldn't change a moment of it, not one. But I won't live for someone else anymore. And I...I hope, at least, that she wouldn't want me to. That she will understand. I hope, but even if I hope in vain there is nothing else I can do. I promised her always, but always changes. I have changed. “Goodbye, beautiful.”
I expected tears, expected sorrow to wash over me like a tidal wave, dragging me under and stealing the breath from my lungs. Instead, as I untie a little black dragon bone from my hair and finally lay it to rest I feel...peace. Little pockets of tension hidden throughout my body ease, and a smile softens the edges of my lips as I walk away from what was once my sanctuary. Drow wraps himself around me and holds on, his towering presence offering comfort and a pillar of strength to lean on if necessary. But it isn't necessary.
In a moment, I return to my old horse shape, half a foot shorter than my giant of a son but built almost the same. Broad and muscular, heavily feathered and with a riotous tangle of a mane—unburdened by one of my lover's bones for the first time in twenty-two years. Black and white still dance across my skin, the pattern ever-changing, an echoing remnant of a time when I burned for Nocturnal, burned over her loss. Now though, I have come to love that dance, to watch the shapes shift on my skin. It feels just as much mine, just as much home, as fixed yellow patches splashed with white. Just as much home as a blue boy, black points faded to silver to honor my fallen brother buried in this same grave.
Drow presses a kiss to my cheek and after a moment of silence to honor those we have lost, we turn to walk away. The Jungle vine climbing my leg and spreading across my chest vanished years ago, shortly after I left. I think She understood that I needed freedom from my vows, freedom to live for myself instead of for my Sisters. I wondered if returning would restore that lovely red bloom to my skin, but I still see no trace of it. I'm not ready to come back to the Jungle, to my Sisters; I don't know if I ever will be. Still, for a moment I feel echoes of those old lines of green winding up my leg, not a shackle but an embrace.
Thank you.
My little frog has been with me all along, a spirit guide imbued into the bold ink the Jungle gifted me long ago. When those lines and colors faded, my skin replaced them of its own accord. My little dart frog, still whispering guidance in my ear when I need it. So much happier now that I actually listen once in a while. But for now he is silent, no tingle of misgiving or gentle nudge in a different direction. Just calm acceptance of the path I have chosen.
“Are you ready?” Most of the gravel has faded from my son's voice, leaving a rich, dark melodic note in its place. And damn, but if it isn't good to hear how much he has healed. Being here brings back memories of his voice raw from shouting to the heavens, from guttural cries and primal screams in the night. There was never anything I could do to ease his pain beyond holding him and crooning jungle songs against his skin until my own voice cracked with exhaustion, my heart breaking with every note. God, I am so proud of him. I touch my nose to his, sharing breath with the person who knows me better than anyone in my life, the son who met me in the darkness and walked alongside me as we made our way through step by step.
“Yes. Let's go home.” Home is not the Jungle anymore, nor the cemetery I made out of holy ground. Home is in the beating of our hearts, and in the way those hearts intertwine with the ones we love. For him, home is his mate and their barely grown daughter, the girl he has devoted his life to from the moment she came into it. His happy little family is whole for the first time in a long time, and I am so damn lucky to be a part of it.
God, I miss the rest of my kids. None of them have called for me since Gendry's girls were born. Some have actively pushed me away, not ready to see me or not interested, and that...hurts. That hurts. But they each walk their own paths, and I've learned to let go. They come back to me when they need me, when they're ready or when they have no other choice. And the rest of the time, they live their lives without me, children no longer. All I can do is send a little love their way, whether they want it or not. A quiet reminder that I am here. That they are loved.
As we slip out of the land that was once our family's safe place, I feel a quiet little echo of that love, one tinged with pain and anger and defiance. My hopeless wanderer, my restless heart, my daring gypsy girl. She hurt in silence for so long, locked away so much of herself no matter how I tried to coax her back out and heal the wounds. That changed so suddenly, so dramatically last year, numb acceptance ground into glittering dust and replaced with passion and fury and a raging tempest, and I rejoiced. Even as she pushed me away, I felt my heart soar for her. This quiet little echo is the first time I have felt anything back from her in far, far too long. Hesitant though that feeling was, it was an invitation, and one I will eagerly accept.
Ah, sweet girl. I'm on my way.
My lips touch the jungle earth where I laid her bones to rest, and a lingering weight in my chest eases as I let go of what used to be, what might have been, what still could be if only. It's not fair of me to hold on any longer, to try to force a dead woman down any path but the one she chose to travel. The one her soul needs, no matter how much I wanted otherwise. Mine has needs too, needs that don't include pining over a dead lover and wasting away into nothing without her by my side. No matter how hard I tried to fight it, somewhere along the line I finally moved on.
You were right, Drow. I needed this. He's a wise man, my son, and his wisdom was earned through turmoil and pain. He has grown so much from the volcanic young man who tore himself apart day after day, taking his heartbreak out on his body. Scars burned into his skin for years have finally faded, and he did it all for his little girl. For himself. And for me, giving in scar by scar to my soul's need to heal those old wounds in my loved ones...and in myself.
Oh, my body survived the devastation I wrought upon it, survived the aftermath of goodbye and countless other hurts, but each of them left marks on my soul. Marks I was too stubborn to notice, too focused on clinging to the tatters of my love to see. I fell in love as a desperate, lonely young girl who still believed somewhere deep beneath the wild jungle child exterior that I was unlovable, unwanted, good for nothing unless I was needed. All of my choices were made for us, for her, for our family. For the Jungle. For anyone but myself.
I loved her so ferociously, held on for so long and with everything in me. And I wouldn't change a moment of it, not one. But I won't live for someone else anymore. And I...I hope, at least, that she wouldn't want me to. That she will understand. I hope, but even if I hope in vain there is nothing else I can do. I promised her always, but always changes. I have changed. “Goodbye, beautiful.”
I expected tears, expected sorrow to wash over me like a tidal wave, dragging me under and stealing the breath from my lungs. Instead, as I untie a little black dragon bone from my hair and finally lay it to rest I feel...peace. Little pockets of tension hidden throughout my body ease, and a smile softens the edges of my lips as I walk away from what was once my sanctuary. Drow wraps himself around me and holds on, his towering presence offering comfort and a pillar of strength to lean on if necessary. But it isn't necessary.
In a moment, I return to my old horse shape, half a foot shorter than my giant of a son but built almost the same. Broad and muscular, heavily feathered and with a riotous tangle of a mane—unburdened by one of my lover's bones for the first time in twenty-two years. Black and white still dance across my skin, the pattern ever-changing, an echoing remnant of a time when I burned for Nocturnal, burned over her loss. Now though, I have come to love that dance, to watch the shapes shift on my skin. It feels just as much mine, just as much home, as fixed yellow patches splashed with white. Just as much home as a blue boy, black points faded to silver to honor my fallen brother buried in this same grave.
Drow presses a kiss to my cheek and after a moment of silence to honor those we have lost, we turn to walk away. The Jungle vine climbing my leg and spreading across my chest vanished years ago, shortly after I left. I think She understood that I needed freedom from my vows, freedom to live for myself instead of for my Sisters. I wondered if returning would restore that lovely red bloom to my skin, but I still see no trace of it. I'm not ready to come back to the Jungle, to my Sisters; I don't know if I ever will be. Still, for a moment I feel echoes of those old lines of green winding up my leg, not a shackle but an embrace.
Thank you.
My little frog has been with me all along, a spirit guide imbued into the bold ink the Jungle gifted me long ago. When those lines and colors faded, my skin replaced them of its own accord. My little dart frog, still whispering guidance in my ear when I need it. So much happier now that I actually listen once in a while. But for now he is silent, no tingle of misgiving or gentle nudge in a different direction. Just calm acceptance of the path I have chosen.
“Are you ready?” Most of the gravel has faded from my son's voice, leaving a rich, dark melodic note in its place. And damn, but if it isn't good to hear how much he has healed. Being here brings back memories of his voice raw from shouting to the heavens, from guttural cries and primal screams in the night. There was never anything I could do to ease his pain beyond holding him and crooning jungle songs against his skin until my own voice cracked with exhaustion, my heart breaking with every note. God, I am so proud of him. I touch my nose to his, sharing breath with the person who knows me better than anyone in my life, the son who met me in the darkness and walked alongside me as we made our way through step by step.
“Yes. Let's go home.” Home is not the Jungle anymore, nor the cemetery I made out of holy ground. Home is in the beating of our hearts, and in the way those hearts intertwine with the ones we love. For him, home is his mate and their barely grown daughter, the girl he has devoted his life to from the moment she came into it. His happy little family is whole for the first time in a long time, and I am so damn lucky to be a part of it.
God, I miss the rest of my kids. None of them have called for me since Gendry's girls were born. Some have actively pushed me away, not ready to see me or not interested, and that...hurts. That hurts. But they each walk their own paths, and I've learned to let go. They come back to me when they need me, when they're ready or when they have no other choice. And the rest of the time, they live their lives without me, children no longer. All I can do is send a little love their way, whether they want it or not. A quiet reminder that I am here. That they are loved.
As we slip out of the land that was once our family's safe place, I feel a quiet little echo of that love, one tinged with pain and anger and defiance. My hopeless wanderer, my restless heart, my daring gypsy girl. She hurt in silence for so long, locked away so much of herself no matter how I tried to coax her back out and heal the wounds. That changed so suddenly, so dramatically last year, numb acceptance ground into glittering dust and replaced with passion and fury and a raging tempest, and I rejoiced. Even as she pushed me away, I felt my heart soar for her. This quiet little echo is the first time I have felt anything back from her in far, far too long. Hesitant though that feeling was, it was an invitation, and one I will eagerly accept.
Ah, sweet girl. I'm on my way.