and bury it before it buries me
He reminds her of Tunnel. She doesn't want to be reminded of him, she would rather be reminded of anyone besides him. Give her Aerwir, Underworld, Cassian, anyone but Tunnel. Anyone. She cant even explain why he reminds her of him. Just the the tickling in her mind, that distant remembrance should be enough to make her run away. But this is Elena. When she should run, she digs her heels in deeper, when she should back away from the ledge, she leaps, and when she should show hesitation, she throws her heart like a lifeline.
Why should this be any different?
Pitter, pitter, pitter.
There is still no patter. She waits, but it never comes.
There is an ache in her chest putting words in her mouth that feel sharp and unfamiliar, like broken glass from the windows of her eyes. “I think you must be the kind of man who finds women on cliff sides and tells them veiled warnings,” she says with narrowed blue eyes. Elena may not look it, but she has grown up strong. She had to, but more than she had to, she had seen strong women at a time when she was so weak and they told her how to hold her strength. “Perhaps you could tell me when I’m permitted to leave or even where to go, Your Majesty. Or better yet, I can wait idly by for you. Why should I have a life of my own?” She remembers Aletta telling the story, about her and Valerio’s first argument, when he followed her out to the meadow. It had been so long ago, before Elena and Lilli, before the twins, even before Malachi. Aletta tells them that actions of those we love can be misinterpreted, Lilli squeals about how romantic a gesture it was, but Elena’s eyes grow like wild fire. Aletta had taken her life into her own hands, and she had stood strong, like the mountains of their ancient valley. They say it is harder to stand up to your enemies, but even harder against those you love.
”I’ve never needed protection. I’m quite capable on my own.” And Elena knew she wanted to be the same.
“I’ve always been fine on my own.” A lie, but one she feels justified telling. In truth, Elena has had a line of people ready to fight for her, protect her, even lay down their life for. She does not know truly what it is like to be her own sword and shield.
The sound of his voice, even that one single syllable, seeped through her bones like poison. If he thinks she likes to play with fire, well, Torix may know Elena better than most. They tell her again and again she will burn herself, but Elena reaches for the flame, not like a moth, but like a dragon.
She knows these autumn seas are not as kind as the summer. She knows when it storm the sea grows relentless, forgetting those who have once bathed in its shallows and admired the water the sunlight skipped light across it. Palomino skin (that looks almost dull on this grey day) feels the touch of his tail as he moves in front of her. She should have known a man like him would not stay back behind her for long. Foolish, she wants to say, but Elena is weak and so she thinks him brave.
For a moment, she sees something in his shadow and her breath catches in her throat. Tunnel. Then it is gone and she can breathe again. The navy blue monster leaves her mind. (Elena tells herself she is winning whenever she can forget him.) “No?” She asks him. She takes a step despite herself. She sees the lion in him too, remembers the card Corrdelia had pulled. Mountain lion. ‘They speak to holding on to what your goals are until they are rooted and ready to be unveiled.’ She’s reading too much into it. He is just a stranger on a cliff side.
What was the harm?
They were only strangers.
A mantra she knows too well.
“The lion and the lamb.” The words come out like a loose tooth.
Pitter, pitter, pitter.
Patter.
Why should this be any different?
Pitter, pitter, pitter.
There is still no patter. She waits, but it never comes.
There is an ache in her chest putting words in her mouth that feel sharp and unfamiliar, like broken glass from the windows of her eyes. “I think you must be the kind of man who finds women on cliff sides and tells them veiled warnings,” she says with narrowed blue eyes. Elena may not look it, but she has grown up strong. She had to, but more than she had to, she had seen strong women at a time when she was so weak and they told her how to hold her strength. “Perhaps you could tell me when I’m permitted to leave or even where to go, Your Majesty. Or better yet, I can wait idly by for you. Why should I have a life of my own?” She remembers Aletta telling the story, about her and Valerio’s first argument, when he followed her out to the meadow. It had been so long ago, before Elena and Lilli, before the twins, even before Malachi. Aletta tells them that actions of those we love can be misinterpreted, Lilli squeals about how romantic a gesture it was, but Elena’s eyes grow like wild fire. Aletta had taken her life into her own hands, and she had stood strong, like the mountains of their ancient valley. They say it is harder to stand up to your enemies, but even harder against those you love.
”I’ve never needed protection. I’m quite capable on my own.” And Elena knew she wanted to be the same.
“I’ve always been fine on my own.” A lie, but one she feels justified telling. In truth, Elena has had a line of people ready to fight for her, protect her, even lay down their life for. She does not know truly what it is like to be her own sword and shield.
The sound of his voice, even that one single syllable, seeped through her bones like poison. If he thinks she likes to play with fire, well, Torix may know Elena better than most. They tell her again and again she will burn herself, but Elena reaches for the flame, not like a moth, but like a dragon.
She knows these autumn seas are not as kind as the summer. She knows when it storm the sea grows relentless, forgetting those who have once bathed in its shallows and admired the water the sunlight skipped light across it. Palomino skin (that looks almost dull on this grey day) feels the touch of his tail as he moves in front of her. She should have known a man like him would not stay back behind her for long. Foolish, she wants to say, but Elena is weak and so she thinks him brave.
For a moment, she sees something in his shadow and her breath catches in her throat. Tunnel. Then it is gone and she can breathe again. The navy blue monster leaves her mind. (Elena tells herself she is winning whenever she can forget him.) “No?” She asks him. She takes a step despite herself. She sees the lion in him too, remembers the card Corrdelia had pulled. Mountain lion. ‘They speak to holding on to what your goals are until they are rooted and ready to be unveiled.’ She’s reading too much into it. He is just a stranger on a cliff side.
What was the harm?
They were only strangers.
A mantra she knows too well.
“The lion and the lamb.” The words come out like a loose tooth.
Pitter, pitter, pitter.
Patter.
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
