and bury it before it buries me
She keeps her eyes closed. The longer that she keeps them shut, the longer she can keep the world out, sit in the warm embrace of her memories of lives she has lived. (Daughter, lover, friend, prisoner, apprentice, healer, politician.) Her heat thrums steadily in her chest. She remembers the way he felt; warm, alive. She remembers that he held her like he did not mean to let her go, and how parts of her wished that he wouldn’t have.
It is a quiet morning – with little else but the dull roar of the turning waves rolling over one another in a rushing bid to get to the sandy shore of Elena’s sea side home. The gentle morning sun can be seen reaching down with caressing light against the far ocean water. The sky is open and bright – a vivid, rich sapphire, painted with a single stroke of lavender as the last sliver of night desperately clutches at the very edge of daybreak. The breeze is gentle, it whispers and smiles as it finds its way to Elena then. It is only then that she finally opens her eyes to free the day.
She thinks summer mornings may be some of her favorite. They remind her of simple times racing across meadows, and laughing by the babbling brook, and falling in love with stories beneath a giant oak. Elena is and always will be a child of summer. Elena watches the swirl of dust and pollen in the slants of sunlight with eyes of silver blue, it sparkles and shimmers for a moment before Elena walks through it, leaving her home behind for the day.
Her wanderings these days are relentless
Something moves her forward and she doesn't entirely understand it. She had been so content when she had been a little girl to stay put in Windskeep, but no longer. Something has been churning at her, in her gut that keeps her from truly sleeping, leaving her restless and aching. Elena finds she wishes to keep her feet constantly moving. This morning is proving to be no different.
She goes to Dawn, as she so often does. She is in Dawn as often as she is in Terrastella these days. Solterra had still proved to be elusive, the girl brave enough to wander towards the desert, but not foolish enough to actually walk the sands alone. Denocte—is another matter entirely. Her heart both aches and fears the land, and perhaps this is what she finds to be most fascinating about it. That, and the shadows and starlight that reside within its borders, begging Elena to return.
The forest welcomes her with open arms as it always does, she wanders between the large trees and with the image of fog in her head she could almost feel as if she were back in Taiga, seeking out a particular red haired cousin of hers. It is only when she makes her way around a particularly large tree that she spies a house up ahead. It is beautiful, and Elena continues walking forwards, slowing her steps only when she spies the mare who the home must belong to. She realizes a moment too late that she may have come a little too close when the woman spins around to meet her in surprise. “Oh, sorry,” she rushes her apology to the startled mare, and the palomino ducks those blue eyes away from her. Her gaze returns only after the mare trails off her own words. Though her words may have faded, Elena’s curiosity has only been piqued.
“A reading?” She asks, taking a small step closer. “What do you read?” She questions further. Elena follows the mare’s gazing look towards the house. “Sorry, I hope I didn't intrude,” she says quickly once more, that apologetic voice rising to her words. “I really love your house,” she says almost sheepishly. “I was just wandering through and it caught my eye,” she admits. “I’m Elena.”
It is a quiet morning – with little else but the dull roar of the turning waves rolling over one another in a rushing bid to get to the sandy shore of Elena’s sea side home. The gentle morning sun can be seen reaching down with caressing light against the far ocean water. The sky is open and bright – a vivid, rich sapphire, painted with a single stroke of lavender as the last sliver of night desperately clutches at the very edge of daybreak. The breeze is gentle, it whispers and smiles as it finds its way to Elena then. It is only then that she finally opens her eyes to free the day.
She thinks summer mornings may be some of her favorite. They remind her of simple times racing across meadows, and laughing by the babbling brook, and falling in love with stories beneath a giant oak. Elena is and always will be a child of summer. Elena watches the swirl of dust and pollen in the slants of sunlight with eyes of silver blue, it sparkles and shimmers for a moment before Elena walks through it, leaving her home behind for the day.
Her wanderings these days are relentless
Something moves her forward and she doesn't entirely understand it. She had been so content when she had been a little girl to stay put in Windskeep, but no longer. Something has been churning at her, in her gut that keeps her from truly sleeping, leaving her restless and aching. Elena finds she wishes to keep her feet constantly moving. This morning is proving to be no different.
She goes to Dawn, as she so often does. She is in Dawn as often as she is in Terrastella these days. Solterra had still proved to be elusive, the girl brave enough to wander towards the desert, but not foolish enough to actually walk the sands alone. Denocte—is another matter entirely. Her heart both aches and fears the land, and perhaps this is what she finds to be most fascinating about it. That, and the shadows and starlight that reside within its borders, begging Elena to return.
The forest welcomes her with open arms as it always does, she wanders between the large trees and with the image of fog in her head she could almost feel as if she were back in Taiga, seeking out a particular red haired cousin of hers. It is only when she makes her way around a particularly large tree that she spies a house up ahead. It is beautiful, and Elena continues walking forwards, slowing her steps only when she spies the mare who the home must belong to. She realizes a moment too late that she may have come a little too close when the woman spins around to meet her in surprise. “Oh, sorry,” she rushes her apology to the startled mare, and the palomino ducks those blue eyes away from her. Her gaze returns only after the mare trails off her own words. Though her words may have faded, Elena’s curiosity has only been piqued.
“A reading?” She asks, taking a small step closer. “What do you read?” She questions further. Elena follows the mare’s gazing look towards the house. “Sorry, I hope I didn't intrude,” she says quickly once more, that apologetic voice rising to her words. “I really love your house,” she says almost sheepishly. “I was just wandering through and it caught my eye,” she admits. “I’m Elena.”
so take away this apathy
bury it before it buries me
@Corrdelia
![[Image: ddvotwe-59302ba6-6a81-47bf-9846-30c5a5db...0iFb4PvyXE]](https://images-wixmp-ed30a86b8c4ca887773594c2.wixmp.com/f/8026a53b-dc57-41ab-b574-9f8a8fe57ce4/ddvotwe-59302ba6-6a81-47bf-9846-30c5a5db0780.png?token=eyJ0eXAiOiJKV1QiLCJhbGciOiJIUzI1NiJ9.eyJzdWIiOiJ1cm46YXBwOjdlMGQxODg5ODIyNjQzNzNhNWYwZDQxNWVhMGQyNmUwIiwiaXNzIjoidXJuOmFwcDo3ZTBkMTg4OTgyMjY0MzczYTVmMGQ0MTVlYTBkMjZlMCIsIm9iaiI6W1t7InBhdGgiOiJcL2ZcLzgwMjZhNTNiLWRjNTctNDFhYi1iNTc0LTlmOGE4ZmU1N2NlNFwvZGR2b3R3ZS01OTMwMmJhNi02YTgxLTQ3YmYtOTg0Ni0zMGM1YTVkYjA3ODAucG5nIn1dXSwiYXVkIjpbInVybjpzZXJ2aWNlOmZpbGUuZG93bmxvYWQiXX0.ujCJH7FAbsQhfZlQniMmEd_vw-VmvaTDn0iFb4PvyXE)
let's light this house on fire
we'll dance in the warmth of its blaze
pixel made by the amazing star
