and bury it before it buries me
When she had been little, back in Windskeep, even in Paraiso, in Murmuring Rivers, she had seen the world in many colors. The rich flowers, the warm sun, the soft grass, and giant trees. Everything was bright and it erupted around her, flourished. Elena never knew the colors would one day leave her, descend into the darkness of monsters and madness.
She doesn't remember the exact moment the colors began to fade, maybe it was bit by bit. Her parents died and the sun was not as bright a yellow. Frostbane tried to take her away and the lavender beside the river was not as vibrant. She was stolen from Culloden and Woodlands and the bluebird seemed a little more dull.
Take, take, take.
And then in one final rush, all the color left her. That day, those weeks, they are a blur now. She could only tell the passage of time by the weather growing colder. She left in summer and it became autumn. She only remembers something dark enveloping her. Something closing in around her, filling her with the deepest dread. Her body ached from fighting, but what she fought she didn't know. (Herself?) She couldn't see. She lost hold of her consciousness eventually, drifting into the vast, menacing darkness. It felt like she was trapped in another world, where she could not breathe or escape. The last thing she remembers before slipping away was pain.
And then her mother found her.
And her life was brought back into the light.
She opened her eyes and she could feel that they were blue.
“Maybe up above the clouds, back to the beginning of summer,” she says almost sadly. When the festivals had lit up the sky and night never came to them. The stars would peek out to say hello, but the darkness never came. Light and light and light.
There was something dangerously tempting about Al’Zahra and was may be offered in the words unspoken. A wisp of a smile pulls at her face. She wonders how many hearts she has taken, or how many had been offered to her and how many she has left, how many she has broken. Elena can see it in her face, her eyes, the tilt of her chin. One does not live as this stranger without a trail behind her. Elena is too terrified to look behind her dark shoulder, to see what really lay behind her.
Longing kisses her skin. Elena knows the emotion well, but it blooms differently in her chest, enough to tell the golden girl it was an emotion that did not belong to her, an emotion she had no right to, but one she steals and wears as her own all the same. And the same feral look that steals the stranger’s face, rests on Elena’s as well. Elena has never been a face stealer as much as she is right now. Those blue eyes grow strong and wild as a glacier.“The question should not be what brought me out on a rainy day.” And the Terrastellan watches her like a cross between how one might admire a firefly in a field and how one looks over their shoulders at the coyote stalking behind them.
Elena has aways been terrible at following directions. Not so much an act of rebellion, but more she cannot confine herself to those straight lines from points A and points B. She drags herself to those cliffs and walks a jagged trail so oblivious to her own peril. “What’s out there?” She asks instead, turning blue eyes to the window. She takes another sip (winces) before looking back to the woman because she realizes that the storm no longer rages outside these walls, but beside her. “Teach me.” Her voice has only sounded as urgent a few times in her still young life. “Teach me to leap without looking,” she says, because Elena, for all her cliff dancing, has only fallen once and she landed in the arms of a man. Maybe, she can teach her to catch herself.
She doesn't remember the exact moment the colors began to fade, maybe it was bit by bit. Her parents died and the sun was not as bright a yellow. Frostbane tried to take her away and the lavender beside the river was not as vibrant. She was stolen from Culloden and Woodlands and the bluebird seemed a little more dull.
Take, take, take.
And then in one final rush, all the color left her. That day, those weeks, they are a blur now. She could only tell the passage of time by the weather growing colder. She left in summer and it became autumn. She only remembers something dark enveloping her. Something closing in around her, filling her with the deepest dread. Her body ached from fighting, but what she fought she didn't know. (Herself?) She couldn't see. She lost hold of her consciousness eventually, drifting into the vast, menacing darkness. It felt like she was trapped in another world, where she could not breathe or escape. The last thing she remembers before slipping away was pain.
And then her mother found her.
And her life was brought back into the light.
She opened her eyes and she could feel that they were blue.
“Maybe up above the clouds, back to the beginning of summer,” she says almost sadly. When the festivals had lit up the sky and night never came to them. The stars would peek out to say hello, but the darkness never came. Light and light and light.
There was something dangerously tempting about Al’Zahra and was may be offered in the words unspoken. A wisp of a smile pulls at her face. She wonders how many hearts she has taken, or how many had been offered to her and how many she has left, how many she has broken. Elena can see it in her face, her eyes, the tilt of her chin. One does not live as this stranger without a trail behind her. Elena is too terrified to look behind her dark shoulder, to see what really lay behind her.
Longing kisses her skin. Elena knows the emotion well, but it blooms differently in her chest, enough to tell the golden girl it was an emotion that did not belong to her, an emotion she had no right to, but one she steals and wears as her own all the same. And the same feral look that steals the stranger’s face, rests on Elena’s as well. Elena has never been a face stealer as much as she is right now. Those blue eyes grow strong and wild as a glacier.“The question should not be what brought me out on a rainy day.” And the Terrastellan watches her like a cross between how one might admire a firefly in a field and how one looks over their shoulders at the coyote stalking behind them.
Elena has aways been terrible at following directions. Not so much an act of rebellion, but more she cannot confine herself to those straight lines from points A and points B. She drags herself to those cliffs and walks a jagged trail so oblivious to her own peril. “What’s out there?” She asks instead, turning blue eyes to the window. She takes another sip (winces) before looking back to the woman because she realizes that the storm no longer rages outside these walls, but beside her. “Teach me.” Her voice has only sounded as urgent a few times in her still young life. “Teach me to leap without looking,” she says, because Elena, for all her cliff dancing, has only fallen once and she landed in the arms of a man. Maybe, she can teach her to catch herself.
so take away this apathy
bury it before it buries me
@"Al'Zahra"
![[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
