[P] Through the Looking Glass .:Elena:.

[Elena]

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

Once, she loved mountains.
Once, she followed a boy into them, and the lightning raced and the thunder splattered, and maybe it was there that she fell in love with him. Maybe it was there the stars aligned, the pieces were set into motion, that first love story that had ever happened, that matters to no one except her because she is the one who lived it. Survived it.
She could write books about what happened after the mountains, the years that followed of loving and leaving and finding and loving and leaving and wildflowers and fire and blood and lighthouses and shipwrecks and all the metaphors of the love she has had that ended up not mattering in the end because through all the metaphors not a single one saved her.
But, Elena doesn't want to write books, so it’s shortened: Once, twice, more—she loved.

Her heart squeezes painfully in her chest when she thinks about them, but she did her best to think around it. She did her best to breathe around it. Because what good would it do to admit that she had been wrong? Or, rather, that her instincts had been right? With each passing moment, their words, all of them infected her mind, poisoned her thoughts. She had been such a fool.

There is something kind about him, sturdy.

Something so wholly different from the darkness that consumed and ate away Underworld, even at his most restful. She sinks into the depth of his voice and finds comfort, just smiling gently when he stammers for a moment.

“Not quite from here,” she says with that smile continuing to stretch across her face like a slow burning candle. (Not quite from here at all she forgets to say, though whether it is on purpose or not cannot be said). “I am from Dusk, I’m a medic there,” she says. “But Delumine has caught my interest more than once,” she admits. Though she was content to live in Dusk, with new found companions who offer her kindness and conversation, she could not help the curiosity for other kingdoms. “Where are you arriving from Lie?” She asks with that curious tilt of her heard that makes her look like a filly from so long ago that chased a boy into the mountains as rain chilled her bones. “Are some sort of lost prince who just escaped the vicious dragon?”

If Elena loved anything, it was a good story.

(And flowers, and her family, and her friends, and summer sunshine, and lily pads, and…)



* 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.

@Liatris