and bury it before it buries me
Elena’s first experience with death hadn't been her father. It had been a solider of the light.
“Sing me back home, before I die.” He had asked her. She had been so small, staring up at him with then amber eyes. She had wanted to get another healer for him, had started to go when he stopped her. Asked her to sing again. And Elena did. She sang for all she could, in those small soprano lyrics. She sang and sang and sang. She sang that soldier of the light all the way back home, and kept singing until her mother finally came to her and pulled her away. “He is home.” Is all she said, but she didn't need to. Elena already knew. She knew he was home.
Elena has no legacy here, she has no echo that skips across the lands of Novus. She does not deserve anything Marisol offers her, but Elena would offer what she could again and again to Dusk, her skills, her labor, her energy, her thoughts, her heart, her prayers. Everything for her new home, even if no one knew her name, even if they forgot about her the moment they met, she would give them all everything she could.
She looks to the sun, she remembers when she thought she would never see it again, and now here it is, bleeding light against her face, so bright she closes her eyes for a moment before she looks at Marisol and is captivated once more by her leader, here, beside her, picking apples as if she has no castle, as if she has not risked her life for her people as one of its defenders. “Why not?” Elena asks her. She looks like polished gold under the sun, bright and warm. Her family was made of so many knights, brave knights, and Elena has always admired them. Had she not always been the one to befriend the dragon and dave the city when she and Lilli played make believe?
“Marisol,” she says, forging the titles because there is a quiet in this moment that would only be broken by such formalities. “We are all eternally grateful for you,” she says sincerely. “Dusk would be nothing without you.” She says and maybe it is because she has only known Marisol as its ruler, has only seen her command with a firm, yet quiet hand. Elena has only heard her name among the lips of the people, singing her praise.
Elena drops an apple just shy of basket in surprise at the woman. “Really?” She asks. The new title, the new position, it tries to settle against her golden skin, but Elena suddenly feels too warm and too cold all at the same time. Her nose twitches with an itch. “I…I accept,” she says, a breathless answer. She would give to fellow Terrastellans here, would give and give for them, if they support her, if they do not. She would still give. Her eyes tilt upwards, clouds have gathered without her knowing. “It looks like rain,” she says and takes her basket. “I hope to see you again, Commander. Perhaps another outing such as this,” she says and even she knows it may never be. Such days of play and innocence are not so generous on the grown. Elena shifts her weight to walk away, but not without a farewell, and just before she leaves she tips her head respectfully. “Stay dry, Commander.”
“Sing me back home, before I die.” He had asked her. She had been so small, staring up at him with then amber eyes. She had wanted to get another healer for him, had started to go when he stopped her. Asked her to sing again. And Elena did. She sang for all she could, in those small soprano lyrics. She sang and sang and sang. She sang that soldier of the light all the way back home, and kept singing until her mother finally came to her and pulled her away. “He is home.” Is all she said, but she didn't need to. Elena already knew. She knew he was home.
Elena has no legacy here, she has no echo that skips across the lands of Novus. She does not deserve anything Marisol offers her, but Elena would offer what she could again and again to Dusk, her skills, her labor, her energy, her thoughts, her heart, her prayers. Everything for her new home, even if no one knew her name, even if they forgot about her the moment they met, she would give them all everything she could.
She looks to the sun, she remembers when she thought she would never see it again, and now here it is, bleeding light against her face, so bright she closes her eyes for a moment before she looks at Marisol and is captivated once more by her leader, here, beside her, picking apples as if she has no castle, as if she has not risked her life for her people as one of its defenders. “Why not?” Elena asks her. She looks like polished gold under the sun, bright and warm. Her family was made of so many knights, brave knights, and Elena has always admired them. Had she not always been the one to befriend the dragon and dave the city when she and Lilli played make believe?
“Marisol,” she says, forging the titles because there is a quiet in this moment that would only be broken by such formalities. “We are all eternally grateful for you,” she says sincerely. “Dusk would be nothing without you.” She says and maybe it is because she has only known Marisol as its ruler, has only seen her command with a firm, yet quiet hand. Elena has only heard her name among the lips of the people, singing her praise.
Elena drops an apple just shy of basket in surprise at the woman. “Really?” She asks. The new title, the new position, it tries to settle against her golden skin, but Elena suddenly feels too warm and too cold all at the same time. Her nose twitches with an itch. “I…I accept,” she says, a breathless answer. She would give to fellow Terrastellans here, would give and give for them, if they support her, if they do not. She would still give. Her eyes tilt upwards, clouds have gathered without her knowing. “It looks like rain,” she says and takes her basket. “I hope to see you again, Commander. Perhaps another outing such as this,” she says and even she knows it may never be. Such days of play and innocence are not so generous on the grown. Elena shifts her weight to walk away, but not without a farewell, and just before she leaves she tips her head respectfully. “Stay dry, Commander.”
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
