m o i r a
the caged bird longs for the fluttering of high leaves.
the fish in the garden pool languishes for meeting waters of whirled streams.
the fish in the garden pool languishes for meeting waters of whirled streams.
F
eet brush along a changing surface, crunching below grates like broken glass, and the sand shifts evermore with pearls and shells falling to the wayside. Once-long hair, now cut, and cropped and tied back into a fierce and battle-ready form, seems to shiver with the sighing of the seas. Waters reach forth, beg to touch dark feet, press against naked ankles save for golden bracelets and children’s dreams. They are denied by the woman and tiger.
Orange stripes streak over the land next to the winged creature. Together, they are sleek. Together, they are strong.
Rumors spread like wildfire, lifting into the air on dandelion seeds, running through the people as wind through stalks of grass. Murmurs of the colt who fell. The colt the healer had rushed to, checked his pulse and head, checked for bruises and bandaged as best she could. Stories that came of it were of little consequence. Yet here she walks, along the edge of the world, looking for that song in her blood that calls for something...something more than her, more than the tigress, more than everything.
Something new that is not quite him and not quite her and not quite of this earth.
So they seek Time hand in hand.
@ | "speaks" | notes: open to any who wish to delve into the island with a pensive girl
