and bury it before it buries me
She had been nervous, standing there just beyond the borders of Murmuring Rivers, a land she has only heard about in stories from her grandmother. Marcelo had coaxed her from the trees she lingered by. “What if no one likes me?” She had asked, the little orphan girl with a price on her head had reduced her worries to what the others within the herd would think of her. ‘Why would no one like you?’ Marcelo had asked her in his deepening voice, not a boy, not a man, but still far too young for a kid and a crown, both of which he had been given. “Well,” she says, extending that final sound, wanting him to fill in the rest. “There is nothing wrong with being afraid.” He had said. “I’m scared too. Do you think we can be scared together?” Elena had smile then, bright like the sun she was named for, and there came a defiant tilt upwards of her head as she stared up at her older cousin with big amber fire eyes. “Lets be afraid together.”
In her mind, her father had always been her hero, and without him here, she had felt so suddenly unsure, unprotected, the ultimate damsel in distress. Marcelo was brave, she knew, and steadfast, and strong, but she could not help it, in her eyes, he was a poor replacement and it only hurt her heart with every beat it had, and every beat her father’s heart didn’t.
The morning is in full bloom now, the sun is harsh against her golden coat. It delves deep into her bones and fills her with a feeling of warmth. It creates a cocoon of happiness around her, lulling her into a false sense of security. It is so easy beside the sea to imagine this is the way she has always lived, always felt. Her past if she squints hard enough against the sun, out on the water, she can see it drowning beneath the waves, begging for a lifeline that Elena will never throw. Can it stay away? Can it? Can it stay away forever?
No. She knows this answer already.
Oh but it is easy, too easy, to forget. Elena moves through the sand, hot underneath the summer sun, with a quiet sort of grace. She walks into the water, letting it reach just below her knees and sky blue eyes close for a moment. If someone she knew saw her, it would be easy too, for them to forget, that Elena was not born upon these sands with the ocean roaring in her ears. She looks every bit the Terrastellan that she was becoming. There is pieces of lupin tangled in her blonde mane and tail. Her four white socks look distinctly colored with different flowers and herbs meant for healing. Elena has embraced Terrastella, and it has embraced her back.
And in that acceptance—there is a strange sort of beauty.
Elena opens her eyes and she does something she has done so much of since leaving Beqanna and making her first arrival into Dusk Court—she smiles.
In her mind, her father had always been her hero, and without him here, she had felt so suddenly unsure, unprotected, the ultimate damsel in distress. Marcelo was brave, she knew, and steadfast, and strong, but she could not help it, in her eyes, he was a poor replacement and it only hurt her heart with every beat it had, and every beat her father’s heart didn’t.
The morning is in full bloom now, the sun is harsh against her golden coat. It delves deep into her bones and fills her with a feeling of warmth. It creates a cocoon of happiness around her, lulling her into a false sense of security. It is so easy beside the sea to imagine this is the way she has always lived, always felt. Her past if she squints hard enough against the sun, out on the water, she can see it drowning beneath the waves, begging for a lifeline that Elena will never throw. Can it stay away? Can it? Can it stay away forever?
No. She knows this answer already.
Oh but it is easy, too easy, to forget. Elena moves through the sand, hot underneath the summer sun, with a quiet sort of grace. She walks into the water, letting it reach just below her knees and sky blue eyes close for a moment. If someone she knew saw her, it would be easy too, for them to forget, that Elena was not born upon these sands with the ocean roaring in her ears. She looks every bit the Terrastellan that she was becoming. There is pieces of lupin tangled in her blonde mane and tail. Her four white socks look distinctly colored with different flowers and herbs meant for healing. Elena has embraced Terrastella, and it has embraced her back.
And in that acceptance—there is a strange sort of beauty.
Elena opens her eyes and she does something she has done so much of since leaving Beqanna and making her first arrival into Dusk Court—she smiles.
so take away this apathy
bury it before it buries me
@Griffin pony!!
![[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
