oh, whatever happened to
the life I gave to you
what will I do with it now?
the life I gave to you
what will I do with it now?
Saphira stared out at the water. She wouldn’t have woken up today, given the choice. She’d crept down the cliffs from her perch mid-day, once the sun had become too hostile to sleep beneath. “...find myself a sea-cave,” she muttered, but it was still too cold to sleep underground. Every night on the cliff-top, she would bury the hot coals, and every evening she would kick up the fire again, threading bits of shell and seagrass for necklaces to enchant children and tourists. She thought they were ugly, but she hadn’t starved…not to death, at least.
Carefully, she picked her way down the shoreline, pausing only to nibble a reed or a bit of seagrass. Now, she stood, hooves sunken into the wet sand, legs dark and black and cold. She could feel the wind curl around them, sticking to them, trying to pull her along. She remained unmoving. She’d have looked a statue if not for her flanks trembling as she sobbed. Things had gotten better. Most mornings she didn’t wail at the sea to take her back. She thought she wouldn’t today, but then it was out - a raw, lonely scream. Something about wailing always made things worse. It wasn’t cathartic. It simply hurt. She coughed, and sobbed, and collapsed into the sand, the soft sea-foam washing her chest, trying to pull her along with the kelp and the rocks. “But you won’t take me back,” she whispered. She stretched out her neck to the horizon and screamed, “you’ll never take me back!” Saphira stared out at the waters, moving as always, unresponsive to her pleas. She laid her head down on the ground, whimpering as the stones and seaglass dug into her skin.
@Orestes || she's on the shores, somewhere near the dusk court
”who will grieve for this woman?“
does she not seem too insignificant for our concern?
