Her search has not brought her closer to finding Isra. Noctii has been absent from Denocte for months now, and she has little to show for it. Save for the woman in the Dawn court. If she can call that anything. Her travels have brought her to the strange bridge that is stirring chatter throughout the lands. A bridge has made an appearance, it was spat out by vines of throbbing berries. Despite her search, she is too drawn to the strange rumor. Perhaps Isra will be on the other side of the bridge. She could feel the chill in the air, winter was upon them. The winds gnaw on the bones of summer, she can feel it. The sun aches, or so she imagines. Soon it will be kept at bay from their lands. Further away. As she understands it. Noctii is a scholar, but she is reliant upon the discoveries of others. It feels much like Isra. Winter is like missing Isra. Noctii struggles to understand her role in Isra's life. They are friends, but she isn't sure what she feels. A part of her feels too inadequate to be the friend of such a brilliant queen. The thoughts have been a plague in her mind. At least her absence this time was for a good reason. It was not selfish. Not entirely.
She remembers the promises she gave to Moira, she knows her task has ended in failure. Noctii wonders if she will ever face the woman who acts as their Sovereign. Noctii decides she will collide with her worries this time, she will speak with Moira. Her travels have taken her to strange and wonderful lands, but they have brought no fruits for Denocte. None that are apparent. The maiden spun from gold takes a few steps toward the crowd that trickles onto the bridge. They spill like water that has been held back for so long. There is hesitant and excited chatter erupting around her. Noctii finds herself frozen to the ground as the bodies move around her. Hesitation strikes her, and she feels fear seep into her bones. No matter how much she wills herself to move onto the bridge, she cannot. Noctii pays no mind to the grumbles of those who spit their irritation at her. She doesn't think she can venture across this new path alone. She thinks she should turn toward home. Deal with her failures sooner rather than later. Noctii cannot force her limbs to move. The fear sinks into her core, and she shivers. The breath of winter feels as though it is coming from inside her now.
The adventurer who has lost so much, and who had come so far, is afraid. The scholar who so ferociously wanted to find her friend. The warrior that has spilled blood for the sake of chaos is frozen. The fear is so cold it threatens to burn her core. She can feel the wind surge beneath her hair, and she stares into the sky. Noctii has not been felt so trapped in her own body in so long. It was like being paralyzed in your sleep, but she has not fallen asleep. Fear is the beast that roots her here.
She remembers the promises she gave to Moira, she knows her task has ended in failure. Noctii wonders if she will ever face the woman who acts as their Sovereign. Noctii decides she will collide with her worries this time, she will speak with Moira. Her travels have taken her to strange and wonderful lands, but they have brought no fruits for Denocte. None that are apparent. The maiden spun from gold takes a few steps toward the crowd that trickles onto the bridge. They spill like water that has been held back for so long. There is hesitant and excited chatter erupting around her. Noctii finds herself frozen to the ground as the bodies move around her. Hesitation strikes her, and she feels fear seep into her bones. No matter how much she wills herself to move onto the bridge, she cannot. Noctii pays no mind to the grumbles of those who spit their irritation at her. She doesn't think she can venture across this new path alone. She thinks she should turn toward home. Deal with her failures sooner rather than later. Noctii cannot force her limbs to move. The fear sinks into her core, and she shivers. The breath of winter feels as though it is coming from inside her now.
The adventurer who has lost so much, and who had come so far, is afraid. The scholar who so ferociously wanted to find her friend. The warrior that has spilled blood for the sake of chaos is frozen. The fear is so cold it threatens to burn her core. She can feel the wind surge beneath her hair, and she stares into the sky. Noctii has not been felt so trapped in her own body in so long. It was like being paralyzed in your sleep, but she has not fallen asleep. Fear is the beast that roots her here.
"Speech" Thoughts
Notes: I wasn't expecting this post to turn out this way ;__;
Tags: @Isra
I was wandering under black skies
Clutching at what is mine
