and bury it before it buries me
Elena remembers the first time she meet the ruler of Woodlands. She can remember thinking: He is a king. Her brow had furrowed because Caunion had not looked like a king. There had been nothing about him as impressive as Valerio had been, nor had he been graceful and as sharp as Aletta. He had not been hard and there had been a softness to him that Elena did not fully trust in a leader. Had it not been for Aerwir, Elena would have left the moment they met. Perhaps, it had been cruel of Elena to make this impression right away, but the world had hardened Elena to an extent, you cant be an orphan and live soft. She had left it to Caunion to prove his worth to her and build her respect as a leader.
But she had been right all along.
Broch came in the night and stole her away and Caunion never even gained the courage to right the wrong.
Caunion had been a charmer, and Elena had to wonder how many mares had fallen for his act. He played the part of knight very well. Elena was sure, if she had been a damsel in distress she would have loved for him to rescue her. But she was not a damsel, and in times of distress she dressed herself up in an iron armor and charged her enemies head on.
Elena was nervous; she seems to fidget under Morr’s fiery gaze, her own blue eyes shifting right to left before looking at her with those same bright, doe eyes. A weary smile vaguely haunts her lips, the corners of her mouth upturning only slightly. Those large doe eyes watch her carefully. Everything in her says she is surrendering. “My apologies,” she quips. She is truck by a firm wall of emotions, anger flashes in her mind like a blood red, but Elena quiets it, biting her lip in an effort to keep emotions that were not her own in check.
Her face grows calm, but inside a storm rages and Elena watches the woman as a doe may watch a wolf. But, Elena feels something else, swarming in her stomach. There is some kind of emotion—and Elena recognizes it instantly within herself, her emotions so easily affected by others. So she listens to the mare talk, but Elena cannot help the way the ghost of smile hinges on her sun kissed face. “I was startled,” is all she offers, and those blue eyes trace the angles of her lips, the way her eyes are set upon her face, trying to find any shadow of the emotion that ripples off of her and onto the empath. “I was just in town visiting a friend,” she says. A friend, right, Moira.
She wants to go now, move past the woman, and she hesitates a step before something stops her, and that faces grows soft, despite the way her brows tinge with concern. “You seem…” Her words, perhaps more here than in other situations, need to be chosen carefully. “On edge, Would you like to join me for a walk around the markets?” Elena smiles. “Retail therapy can sometimes prove beneficial, and I think you would look stunning with a new scarf.”
But she had been right all along.
Broch came in the night and stole her away and Caunion never even gained the courage to right the wrong.
Caunion had been a charmer, and Elena had to wonder how many mares had fallen for his act. He played the part of knight very well. Elena was sure, if she had been a damsel in distress she would have loved for him to rescue her. But she was not a damsel, and in times of distress she dressed herself up in an iron armor and charged her enemies head on.
Elena was nervous; she seems to fidget under Morr’s fiery gaze, her own blue eyes shifting right to left before looking at her with those same bright, doe eyes. A weary smile vaguely haunts her lips, the corners of her mouth upturning only slightly. Those large doe eyes watch her carefully. Everything in her says she is surrendering. “My apologies,” she quips. She is truck by a firm wall of emotions, anger flashes in her mind like a blood red, but Elena quiets it, biting her lip in an effort to keep emotions that were not her own in check.
Her face grows calm, but inside a storm rages and Elena watches the woman as a doe may watch a wolf. But, Elena feels something else, swarming in her stomach. There is some kind of emotion—and Elena recognizes it instantly within herself, her emotions so easily affected by others. So she listens to the mare talk, but Elena cannot help the way the ghost of smile hinges on her sun kissed face. “I was startled,” is all she offers, and those blue eyes trace the angles of her lips, the way her eyes are set upon her face, trying to find any shadow of the emotion that ripples off of her and onto the empath. “I was just in town visiting a friend,” she says. A friend, right, Moira.
She wants to go now, move past the woman, and she hesitates a step before something stops her, and that faces grows soft, despite the way her brows tinge with concern. “You seem…” Her words, perhaps more here than in other situations, need to be chosen carefully. “On edge, Would you like to join me for a walk around the markets?” Elena smiles. “Retail therapy can sometimes prove beneficial, and I think you would look stunning with a new scarf.”
so take away this apathy
bury it before it buries me
@Morrighan
![[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
