there are nights when the wolves are silent
and only the horses howl
and only the horses howl
The cliffs rose abruptly from the ocean, towering ramparts of stone that glinted jade-blue and swarthy merlot in the boughs of light thrown upon them by the sun. They established themselves in the east and arched southwest towards the realm dedicated to solely Vespera, where horses roamed with the setting sun chasing their backs - Dusk Court. The palisade was insurmountable from below, with its sheer curtains of solid rock in which bits of exposed ore winked in the light.
When she stepped closer to the edge, centimeters from plummeting downwards with nothing to land on besides shards of beaten boulders and waves, there was a soothing warmth that overtook her. Her mauve eyes drove towards the water beneath as she recognized how wave after wave swayed like the drums of war as they hammered against the stone-clad shoreline. When the sun descended every evening it was consumed by those waves and as it lifted it was birthed from those waves. The ocean was unceasingly morphing, while eternally the same; it was something that was invariably amending yet in the same breath prevailing constant. There was something inexplicable and noble that composed that mass of water, something no poem could describe and no image could capture.
Maerys recalled when she was young she would covet the shore, filling incalculable hours deftly laid on the coast with her chin extended out in front of her. She cherished how the tide would draw a breath and hum profoundly, lagging towards her like a sea-foam serpent that strained and strained towards her until it was too feeble to endure, mere iotas from her snout. It would recede and try again.
The memory dissipated as swiftly as it came.
There was no time to reminisce. There was no time to imagine. The reality she remembered was long gone, like petals on the wind.
She knew that in thoughts the destination may be beautiful, bewitching even - the laughter of her mother; the remembrance of a time when she was still alive - but it would always temporary at best, a fleeting second. She never reminisced too long, for she would feel her heart beat faster and fear slip into her bones.
What if I get stuck in the past?
With the faint flutter of her lids, she would always return to the present where she would stay until the sentiments and recollections came to alter her attention once more, to show her another place, another breath-taking illustration of an alternate life.
Vradara, in all her voracious despair, chirped at the silver-haired doe's side. Even the dragon understood.
When she stepped closer to the edge, centimeters from plummeting downwards with nothing to land on besides shards of beaten boulders and waves, there was a soothing warmth that overtook her. Her mauve eyes drove towards the water beneath as she recognized how wave after wave swayed like the drums of war as they hammered against the stone-clad shoreline. When the sun descended every evening it was consumed by those waves and as it lifted it was birthed from those waves. The ocean was unceasingly morphing, while eternally the same; it was something that was invariably amending yet in the same breath prevailing constant. There was something inexplicable and noble that composed that mass of water, something no poem could describe and no image could capture.
Maerys recalled when she was young she would covet the shore, filling incalculable hours deftly laid on the coast with her chin extended out in front of her. She cherished how the tide would draw a breath and hum profoundly, lagging towards her like a sea-foam serpent that strained and strained towards her until it was too feeble to endure, mere iotas from her snout. It would recede and try again.
The memory dissipated as swiftly as it came.
There was no time to reminisce. There was no time to imagine. The reality she remembered was long gone, like petals on the wind.
She knew that in thoughts the destination may be beautiful, bewitching even - the laughter of her mother; the remembrance of a time when she was still alive - but it would always temporary at best, a fleeting second. She never reminisced too long, for she would feel her heart beat faster and fear slip into her bones.
What if I get stuck in the past?
With the faint flutter of her lids, she would always return to the present where she would stay until the sentiments and recollections came to alter her attention once more, to show her another place, another breath-taking illustration of an alternate life.
Vradara, in all her voracious despair, chirped at the silver-haired doe's side. Even the dragon understood.
![[Image: maerys-pixel.png]](https://i.ibb.co/kM48w8r/maerys-pixel.png){kind=tracking}
x
force and magic always permitted
