[P] cathedral bell

[Elena]

take this burden away from me
and bury it before it buries me

Ask Elena how she got to Novus, to Dusk Court, and she will tell you the honest truth, she does not remember. She had risen from the sea, like the kelpie girl she was not and would never be. (Maybe this is why the Denocte man will break her heart.) She had come ashore like a battered piece of driftwood, but strong never the less as Anandi found her. She had walked with water-weary feet and walked from the coast to the city. She had wandered here, she likes to say, it sounds so much prettier when she packages it like some sort of exotic adventure than what it really was.

Maybe she remembers, though.
But maybe she just doesn't want to tell you about it.

At least not yet.

Still, she can remember all those legends she was told and love that was written in the stars. They are painted on her soul, as they all are for legacy children, in bright colors that cannot fade no matter what damage has been caused. These stories of her youth are what she clings to.

She blinks at the woman for a moment, waiting to see her reaction before a warm smile spreads to her face in response to the woman’s words. “Tarot cards?” She questions taking a step forward. Her curiosity piques like a ballerina ascending en pointe. Despite her youth, there is a gravity to Elena, a bruising behind her eyes that tells everyone that she has seen her fair share of sorrows. “Can you…” she asks, unsure of how to put it. Marcelo comes to mind and his visions that have obscured his eyes with blinding light. “See the future?” She finishes, embarrassment blooming on her cheeks at her question, wondering if the woman would think her silly.

“Where have you moved from?” She asks, so unknowing that she asks a girl who once lived in her very court, who performed her very tasks. Their fates were not aligned to meet in the swamp it would seem, but the forest. Psychic catches her words, but Elena merely offers her a bout of friendly laughter. “I think I may just prefer to call you Corrdelia if it is all the same to you,” she says.

This is when her eyes find the bird once more. “She is beautiful,” Elena says, admiring the feathered creature. There is a carefree smile on those delicate features of hers. (Fae, Tenebrae would say if he were here, she is certain.) Glacier eyes find Corrdelia once more. “A cup of tea sounds lovely,” her voice soft and lilting. Elena moves into her kitchen and feels instantly warmed by the sights and sounds that surround her. It is only when the woman finishes making he tea that Elena hesitantly asks something of her. “Do you think, I could have a reading?” She asks.

Going into life blindly has brought Elena far more downs that ups, perhaps she could find some moments of clarity with the winged girl and her tarot cards.

so take away this apathy
bury it before it buries me

@Corrdelia