and bury it before it buries me
Good soldiers may not make good kings.
Good men may not be good leaders.
And.
Good kings can be bad people.
In the lands she has seen with the silvery blue eyes of her mother, in the lands she has lived with the bones of her father, this is what Elena has learned.
Her loneliness was exquisite. She felt it in the blister of pain beneath skin stretched too thin, too tight, of broken bones and spilled marrow. Her heart would beat in her chest echoed by hurt, etched in a beautiful desolation that she so often refused to let end. Going back again and again and again, so convinced this time it would be different. There is a part of her, a broken, retched sliver of her heart, that stood selfish, that wanted them to know the same aches she has felt. But, that feeling soon passed like clouds over the sun in summer.
She isn't sure what to think when she sees the mare with that steely look and beautiful presence, while inside Elena has sorrow hidden behind those thoughtful blue of her eyes. There are nightmares that Elena still carries between her teeth and tucked behind her breastbone.
Elena has never been able to fully understand the capacity of her own feelings, the way they dip and fall and peak like the mountains of Paraiso she once stood upon believing she could fly. They are tangled things, messy, and for someone who longs for the cleanliness and beauty of black and white living, Elena wishes she could just ignore them. Breath in the cold air and rid herself of any of the things that form in the back of her mind—suspicion, sorrow, guilt, confusion—and let them melt away like spring. Perhaps she can be a little reckless, a little too bold and brazen, but she has found that things are things she can control.
Elena is not all light she has come to find out and she would have to learn to live with her sunshine and shadows tangled together.
She is such a malleable metal, bending and giving whenever anyone speaks to her. It is not different in the presence of this mare. Her smile is slow and soft, hazy along the edges as if hovering along her ash dusted lips.
The warm air is comforting and only lightens that soft smile on her face. Elena has been and always will be a child of summer. “A pleasure,” she responds, looking up at her slightly with eyes of blue sky. “I met Anandi a few days ago, I’ve been staying in the guest houses,” she admits sheepishly. “I was hoping to join your ranks in Dusk.” There, there is the request that sends a put into her stomach. “I am a skilled healer, starting as an apprentice at a young age, and a capable politician should the occasion arise,” she says, despite the words, there is a humble roll to Elena’s shoulders and modest duck of her head, as if there were discomfort in saying such things about herself. “The politics of my last home were—complicated, at best,” she admits. Beqanna had been a land of unrest and chaos, she sends a silent hope that Lilli, Kensa, and Caspian were okay. “I would be honored to serve this court.”
Good men may not be good leaders.
And.
Good kings can be bad people.
In the lands she has seen with the silvery blue eyes of her mother, in the lands she has lived with the bones of her father, this is what Elena has learned.
Her loneliness was exquisite. She felt it in the blister of pain beneath skin stretched too thin, too tight, of broken bones and spilled marrow. Her heart would beat in her chest echoed by hurt, etched in a beautiful desolation that she so often refused to let end. Going back again and again and again, so convinced this time it would be different. There is a part of her, a broken, retched sliver of her heart, that stood selfish, that wanted them to know the same aches she has felt. But, that feeling soon passed like clouds over the sun in summer.
She isn't sure what to think when she sees the mare with that steely look and beautiful presence, while inside Elena has sorrow hidden behind those thoughtful blue of her eyes. There are nightmares that Elena still carries between her teeth and tucked behind her breastbone.
Elena has never been able to fully understand the capacity of her own feelings, the way they dip and fall and peak like the mountains of Paraiso she once stood upon believing she could fly. They are tangled things, messy, and for someone who longs for the cleanliness and beauty of black and white living, Elena wishes she could just ignore them. Breath in the cold air and rid herself of any of the things that form in the back of her mind—suspicion, sorrow, guilt, confusion—and let them melt away like spring. Perhaps she can be a little reckless, a little too bold and brazen, but she has found that things are things she can control.
Elena is not all light she has come to find out and she would have to learn to live with her sunshine and shadows tangled together.
She is such a malleable metal, bending and giving whenever anyone speaks to her. It is not different in the presence of this mare. Her smile is slow and soft, hazy along the edges as if hovering along her ash dusted lips.
The warm air is comforting and only lightens that soft smile on her face. Elena has been and always will be a child of summer. “A pleasure,” she responds, looking up at her slightly with eyes of blue sky. “I met Anandi a few days ago, I’ve been staying in the guest houses,” she admits sheepishly. “I was hoping to join your ranks in Dusk.” There, there is the request that sends a put into her stomach. “I am a skilled healer, starting as an apprentice at a young age, and a capable politician should the occasion arise,” she says, despite the words, there is a humble roll to Elena’s shoulders and modest duck of her head, as if there were discomfort in saying such things about herself. “The politics of my last home were—complicated, at best,” she admits. Beqanna had been a land of unrest and chaos, she sends a silent hope that Lilli, Kensa, and Caspian were okay. “I would be honored to serve this court.”
so take away this apathy
bury it before it buries me
@
![[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
