[P] red lips, french kiss

[Elena]

every day it feels like I’m holding back an ocean

Some days, she convinced herself that she could no longer smell him. She convinced herself that he was fading from her memory, that with each breath she was burning him from her mind as if he had never taken up space there. She strolled beside the sea, wandered the familiar curves of the cliffs of Dusk, and she could almost believe that he had never existed, or that he never existed to her. It was just a brief interlude in her life. She woke up and ignored the ache in her bones and piercing pain in her chest.

It was a lie though. Of course it was. Her heart still fluttered when she dreamt at night, still hammered in her chest when she imagined him touching her. Sometimes when the forests grew thick, she still looked for his presence, and it still hurt. With each breath, each memory, it scorched her insides, her own fire used against her, a silent pain she bore quietly. If she ignored it, perhaps it would eventually go away.

She should hate him, but Elena still cannot. Her heart is a tiny thing and it only has enough room to hold love and loneliness and grief, often all at the same time.

But as she runs through the breeze all she senses is the bright world around her. Tunnel is left in his forest, scared to crawl his way through the trees and Elena is free to forget him before he will crawl back into her nightmares to scar her soul and chill her blood.

Sunshine.

She hears the nickname and it stills her for a moment before she realizes it is shine and not flower as she has so often been called and her heart resumes its beating in her chest. Elena slows to a trot, a bout of laughter catching her like a butterfly in a net. She waits for her new companions to slow down before she tosses her head in the air, that white forelock flops to the side and the white heart birthmark stands against her skin of gold.

Her grin matches his own, so eager to share her carefree joy with another. “Well hello to you too, Moonbeam,” she jests with joking narrowed eyes before they open wide once more like blue skies. Elena looks to his side, to the lion, and she thinks of Lie and in turn thinks of Kensa.

Then Hyaline.
Then Lilli.

Then she stops.
She cant do that anymore.

“It is so good to see another today,” she says, means it. “I’m Elena, and who might you both be?”



* e l e n a
in the dark I’ll pray for the return of the light
the sunflower daughter of benjamin and beylani
medic of dusk.

@'El Toro'