[AW] the winds will never change for us

[Elena]

every day it feels like I’m holding back an ocean

She could be a legend, if the story came from the right mouth, was told the right way. Her story has grief in it, has great and terrible love, has vicious villains, and promises and other such things. But what her story also has is her own darkness – yes, she has wept over the broken bodies of her parents buried six feet under, once begged them to come back, begged while life went on around her and she kept getting older and older until she out aged her own parents. Yes, she did all this, but she also once broke a boy’s heart (“Can I see you again?” “No.”) And another because she thought it was all his fault for making her do it. 

Yes, she once stood by helpless as he maimed her father, wailed and gnashed her teeth at the loss of him. Yes, she did all this, but she also reached for another man’s heart with one already in her hand because he made a fool’s mistake of looking her in the eyes and asking for her name. 

She is not a myth that deserves telling. 

She is beautiful as she stands there, in her desolation, beautiful in the way her wavy blonde mane drapes sadly across her forehead, hiding that heart shaped birthmark (a symbol she was told, of her parents love and devotion to one another) from prying eyes. She has the smile of a mother she barely knows, if only because she hadn't had long enough for her to get to know her. 

Spring assaults her senses and Elena would not have it any other way, it was why she came here today. She should be collecting herbs, or building relationships with the citizens of Terrastella, but Elena has allowed herself this day to rest inside her head. “Love is fickle, duty is reliable, both can make a lonely bedfellow.” These words were spoken from Elena’s own mouth, parted from her own lips, laced on her own tongue. She had said it to Lilli that day underneath the Hyaline starry sky when the chestnut mare had posed to her which would she choose. And, in truth, Elena still isn't sure. Reliability had been Aerwir, it had been her diplomat position with Kensa, it had been the falls of Paraiso. Fickle had been Underworld, Tunnel, and magic. 

Her head is lowered to touch the flowers below her feet. There sits red tulips and yellow, as if the magic that bleeds in this land had known she would be here. Tulip children they had called them. Spring has brought a feeling of reawakening within Elena and she wants more than anything to be happy here. As the flowers tickle ash dusted nostrils and her body hinges on sneezing, but a laugh finds her instead. She thinks, that this may very well be exactly where she is supposed to be.

For now, at least.
Elena cant yet give thought to forever. 
(She was no legend, no myth, it is evident in this moment.)

She is just a girl with flowers and no one to share them with.



* e l e n a
in the dark I’ll pray for the return of the light
the sunflower daughter of benjamin and beylani
medic of dusk.

@Caelum

[for Caelum, but anyone is free to join, <3)