prayed to keep my soul
H
er dreams are filled with a great many things. Memories that are fresh and new, if only because this world is so fresh and new to her. She dreams of fairytales her mother has told her. Of a dragon that destroyed a herd, and a great many knights vanquished trying to slay him. Until there came a girl who befriended him instead of fighting him. She hears stories of girls following wolves into the forest. There is a story about flowers that bloomed magic. Elena tells her how, at the heart of it, dreams are magic. A dream, after all, is what brought her and her godmother together again against the odds of it all. She knows dreams are powerful, her own father has told her as much. He tells her he can walk through dreams just as she walks through the forest and along the river now. She wonders what it is like to be a part of two world, two different world. Elliana will know some day, when she walks through a portal created on her own, and sees spirits dancing among the living and realizes that they have always been there. Some day. Some day.Not today.
Today they are still hiding, like the fairies in her fairy house.
Elliana mostly spends her time alone. She likes it this way though. She kicks out those spidery baby legs and runs, racing nothing but the wind and the river. An activity her mother had often done when she was her age. A dark leg runs forward before one dipped in white accompanies it and she pushes feet backwards. She leaps, so much like a dancer, over tree roots stubborn sticking out from the snow. She cannot feel the plants and animals dying beneath her feet because they are already dead, but if she could, she would weep for winter instead of celebrating it’s existence. She looks like some sort of fae creature, small and dainty, frolicking from one tree unburdened by leaves to the next. She dances in the shadows, unafraid when the light of the sun perches overhead like her guardian.
She finds him in the forest, not unlike how the wolf finds little red riding hood, But Elli bares no fangs and he wears no cloak. She is quiet in her approach, watching his gentle actions. She notices the pointed ensemble on top of his head and finds it strange, though she has seen such a thing in the forest before. Though never on the head of a man. “You are not a deer,” she tells him softly, in a voice like starlight, silver and sweet. A silver bell voice like her mother’s. But where hers chimes a single note, Elliana’s seems to echo and echo and echo. Like ghosts that have not yet left this world. “What are you doing?” She asks him and settles her small body close to him, too close. She is her mother’s daughter in this way. “Can I help?” And somewhere, her empath of a mother says a prayer that her daughter’s heart will not be so cursed by compassion as hers is.
@Septimus speaks
elliana
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