Don't pretend you wanna change
Don't you see the mess you made
She had wandered many places; faces blurred into a technicolor past and all she had seen blended together in ways she couldn't keep track of. Never had she stayed in one place for long--the call of something greater, always greater, pushed her onward like a mother bird nudging its chick from a nest for its first flight--but she grew tired of endlessly searching for something she didn't even know existed. She questioned, she doubted, she was pulled down into a spiral of ceaseless wondering and it was the stone walls of a great kingdom she knew nothing of that finally saw her rest into a space that wasn't the sky. Her wings grew weary, her resolve dissipated, and there in an unfamiliar land she would, without realizing then, call it home.
She was never taught what 'purpose' was save for the excruciating task of memorizing every detail of gods--deities that had no faces, empty statues that remained uncarved and were yet still revered with each impervious meeting of sun and moon--and she spent endless time that surmounted all constraints of passing days with nothing more than a book and candle, burning incessantly across spellbound pages. Tales of the morally unbound, the misdeeds and generosities of greater powers who held no regard for any but their own, wrote themselves across binded papers and in their folds she rested her head and gave her heart. She, who was but born for its sole purpose, lost in the ink with no real sense of direction other than forward.
But it would not be within the books that she advanced through.
The solid structure of stone underneath her spread wings sang its siren call and she dropped to its feet, cloak billowing out behind her, wild dark hair a mass of ravaged beauty claimed by the wind. The maroon fabric was fastened tight as though afraid to leave her side, golden pauldron sporting emerald feathers. She breathed deep, the slight sting of coming winter splintering its way through her veins and taking hold of a heart set free. It was a welcomed prick, a negligible ache that made her feel. And how she had not felt such things before, an experience stolen, trapped in a village with no name for gods never seen.
Though she dropped to land in an expanse of deserted grassy plains she moved toward the wall of increasing size, safeguarding behind it a castle of impressive view. Laying beyond steel gates were the movements of many wandering through set-up stalls and wavering tents--a marketplace on a day the sunlight shone upon them in crisp fall-turning-winter air. Curiosity tugged her closer to the barricade, molten golden eyes watching what they could see through the intricate designs blocking her path. They were closed, the gates, and though there should have been attentive soldiers warily regarding her as she had seen many do before, they seemed preoccupied with an entertainer some paces away. So the skull-marked girl waited where she could go no further; eyes caught the shape of an icy, crystalline figure and they rested on him as he made way through the crowded streets, questions lingering in their depths.
She was never taught what 'purpose' was save for the excruciating task of memorizing every detail of gods--deities that had no faces, empty statues that remained uncarved and were yet still revered with each impervious meeting of sun and moon--and she spent endless time that surmounted all constraints of passing days with nothing more than a book and candle, burning incessantly across spellbound pages. Tales of the morally unbound, the misdeeds and generosities of greater powers who held no regard for any but their own, wrote themselves across binded papers and in their folds she rested her head and gave her heart. She, who was but born for its sole purpose, lost in the ink with no real sense of direction other than forward.
But it would not be within the books that she advanced through.
The solid structure of stone underneath her spread wings sang its siren call and she dropped to its feet, cloak billowing out behind her, wild dark hair a mass of ravaged beauty claimed by the wind. The maroon fabric was fastened tight as though afraid to leave her side, golden pauldron sporting emerald feathers. She breathed deep, the slight sting of coming winter splintering its way through her veins and taking hold of a heart set free. It was a welcomed prick, a negligible ache that made her feel. And how she had not felt such things before, an experience stolen, trapped in a village with no name for gods never seen.
Though she dropped to land in an expanse of deserted grassy plains she moved toward the wall of increasing size, safeguarding behind it a castle of impressive view. Laying beyond steel gates were the movements of many wandering through set-up stalls and wavering tents--a marketplace on a day the sunlight shone upon them in crisp fall-turning-winter air. Curiosity tugged her closer to the barricade, molten golden eyes watching what they could see through the intricate designs blocking her path. They were closed, the gates, and though there should have been attentive soldiers warily regarding her as she had seen many do before, they seemed preoccupied with an entertainer some paces away. So the skull-marked girl waited where she could go no further; eyes caught the shape of an icy, crystalline figure and they rested on him as he made way through the crowded streets, questions lingering in their depths.
@grey it sounded like the marketplace was inside the court gates, so i played it out like he was inside and she was waiting to be let in from the outside c:
