my spirit's veering flight
like swallows under evening skies.
like swallows under evening skies.
There is a pressure at her side, a presence, a warmth, and the other woman is there. Their shoulders touch, Samaira’s hinged wing laying haphazardly across the stranger’s back. She is covered in mud. They are covered in mud, it clings to their legs and their sides, splattered across their wings, their hair. Samaira continues to breathe slowly, listening to the other woman speak as the dark washes over them, the moon dappling them with soft light.
She is both here and not here, grounded by rough voice of the woman at her side but feeling like she is floating, floating high above them, looking on through eyes that are both hers but not. She feels otherworldly, lightheaded, strange. Her skin shakes and shudders and her heart quivers and she breathes and breathes and breathes. The woman glances up and Samaira follows, afraid to see herself there, looking down on them. But of course she is not; there is only the canopy and the dark sky above with the stars and the moon.
“Terrastella,” and she feels the world out, the way it tastes on her tongue and the shape it makes of her lips. Samaira thinks land of stars and she likes it, beautiful but simple. She thinks and hopes and wonders, already, if this place will be more simple for her. More peaceful. And when the woman asks where she is from her eyes fall do the muddied ground, as though she might find answers there that are nicer than the truth.
“A place that has no love for our kind,” she says after a moment’s pause, the feathers of her damaged wing rustling in the breeze. “Irindor,” and it is a sourness in her mouth, a heaviness in her heart. The world falls to silence between them, cradled by the night sounds filtering through the swamp. At some point the tremors lessen, her breathing comes easier. Samaira shifts her weight on the ground and glances at the woman with storm grey eyes. The word she utters then are soft and blanket the space around them with a genuine warmth, ”Thank you.”
She is both here and not here, grounded by rough voice of the woman at her side but feeling like she is floating, floating high above them, looking on through eyes that are both hers but not. She feels otherworldly, lightheaded, strange. Her skin shakes and shudders and her heart quivers and she breathes and breathes and breathes. The woman glances up and Samaira follows, afraid to see herself there, looking down on them. But of course she is not; there is only the canopy and the dark sky above with the stars and the moon.
“Terrastella,” and she feels the world out, the way it tastes on her tongue and the shape it makes of her lips. Samaira thinks land of stars and she likes it, beautiful but simple. She thinks and hopes and wonders, already, if this place will be more simple for her. More peaceful. And when the woman asks where she is from her eyes fall do the muddied ground, as though she might find answers there that are nicer than the truth.
“A place that has no love for our kind,” she says after a moment’s pause, the feathers of her damaged wing rustling in the breeze. “Irindor,” and it is a sourness in her mouth, a heaviness in her heart. The world falls to silence between them, cradled by the night sounds filtering through the swamp. At some point the tremors lessen, her breathing comes easier. Samaira shifts her weight on the ground and glances at the woman with storm grey eyes. The word she utters then are soft and blanket the space around them with a genuine warmth, ”Thank you.”
@Marisol love Mari <3
![[Image: 13481303_KpOIcOG7drxHK9U.png?1556314753]](https://file.toyhou.se/images/13481303_KpOIcOG7drxHK9U.png?1556314753)
we'll fulfill our dreams
and we'll be free
