[P] dandelion wine for a year

[Nicnevin]

THE GREEN CANOPY'S NO SEA OR NET, BUT THAT'S ABSOLUTE --
confusion of thickets behind me; before me, open space.

The sky is brilliant. I don’t know what it is composed of at all, and it seems so very far away (though not, I’m sure, as far away as my homeland), but, in the moment, I try not to consider the details of what I am seeing. I have always held a certain fondness for understanding things, at their marrow, and picking them apart until I know how they tick – I think that it is a habit I picked up after my time as a sword. I never know what I will become next, so it is in my best interest to try to comprehend everything.

But – you can never quite understand anything until you become it. I know that, too. And, even after becoming something, it is hard to remember how to be it, when you aren’t it anymore; nowadays, I can’t imagine being a sword. I cannot imagine the apathetic violence, my life melded to someone else’s grip.

In the moment, though – in the moment, it was fine. Maybe even brilliant.

This night sky is brilliant, too, even if I don’t know the names of all those little lights or what they are, even if I don’t understand the darkness of it or the silver pull of the moon. My lips begin to twitch up into a smile, when-

There is a child come to meet me. The knight inside of me berates me for my thoughtlessness; even a child can sneak up on me. The rest of me protests that a child is no harm. (The knight says that a child can be harmful, and she asks me if I recall my first life. I don’t answer.)

She’s so small - it occurs to me that she must still be terribly young. Her mane and tail are soft flaxen, and her coat consists of shades of brown, some softer and some darker; she has several striking white markings, particularly on her face, and big, bright orange eyes. She is incredibly slender, with a face that looks far too big for her small frame and stumbly legs. Her voice, too, is rather mismatched. I smile faintly at her too-loud voice and overly-emphasized words. Are you okay, lady?! I am, but I recall that I was crying only moments before, and it occurs to me quickly why she is so concerned.

“Oh, goodness,” I say, caught somewhere between a laugh and a tearstained sob at her concern. “I’m quite alright – better than alright, even.” I’m sure that I don’t look it. I’m sure that I look a mess, more precisely, but, then, that’s hardly unusual, at least in this strange, new land. (I like to think that I was more composed at home, befitting a Knight of my rank and stature, but maybe I’m misremembering. I have so many memories; they become jumbled sometimes, and horribly confused. I suppose it is a necessary consequence of resurrection.)

I stand, swiftly, and find myself (though not fully grown) considerably taller than the girl. “But thank you for your kindness, Lady Maeve. I am Nicnevin, a knight of the Wynding Gold.” I dip to my knees with practiced elegance, my wings stretching out to compliment my bow; it is probably unnecessary, under the circumstances, but it is my most familiar greeting. I straighten, then, and would have been silent, were it not for the obvious concern she had displayed – in all my lifetimes I have been more fond of silence than speech, more apt to let others carry a conversation for me. But still. I think that I should explain, or she might stay worried. “These were happy tears, you see,” I add, wondering if she is even old enough to be familiar with the concept. “This is the first time I’ve ever seen the night sky.”

I’m sure it is strange to hear, for a little girl raised in this land.

Still. Thinking back to my own, sheltered existence – perhaps it is good to hear it regardless.

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@Maeve || <3 || "the cliff," gregory orr

"Speech!" 

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