When are you really gonna believe in yourself
Her bones are tired, so tired that they have created a new definition for an old idea. Night is slowly creeping across the sky behind her as she travels west. It stalks her like a horrible monster that is always just out of her reach. It carries with it the threat of isolation, and memories spun from another time. Meira does not dare to stop, she fears she will not be able to keep going if she stops. She believes she will succumb to her weariness if she allows herself any respite. Stars begin to appear in the sky ahead of her, each one twinkling into existence. Meira studies them as she moves, she wishes they kept their promises. The closer she draws to Delumine, the more obscure the stars become. Suspicion prickles along her nape as she peers into the smoke covered sky. The sun has long since set by the time she sees the plumes billowing into the heavens; And yet, reds, violets, and black clouds spill into the void overhead. Meira does not realize she has stopped a moment to study the potential omens in the sky until she looks down at her legs that have immobilized themselves.
She glares at them momentarily, as if to scold them for their betrayal. Meira sighs as she begins to move once more, the effort to shift into motion once more is noticeable. A grunt escapes her pale lips, lips that are more vicious than their colour would promise. It is the only part of her that lies. Every inch of her beyond her lips and daggers speak a brutal truth, just as her mind and heart do. Meira grows closer to the source of the colourful smoke plumes, she has a momentary revelation about them. When she had stayed in Denocte, she had read about the Fire Festival that took place between Denocte and Delumine. Meira recalled thinking it was a curious tradition. Now the festival sprawled out before her, inviting her to go and join the swathes of bodies. Meira began to feel the warmth waft from the bonfires the closer she got to them. The dull hum of voices became more distinct as she passed a few of the bonfires where mages were tossing some sort of metal into them. Meira has again stopped, she is mesmerized by the way the flames dance into the sky. She idly wonders if this is what stars look like up close.
Meira is hovering at the edge of the group, but never quite breaking into the circle of bodies that are gathering for the storyteller taking their place at the head of the circle.
She glares at them momentarily, as if to scold them for their betrayal. Meira sighs as she begins to move once more, the effort to shift into motion once more is noticeable. A grunt escapes her pale lips, lips that are more vicious than their colour would promise. It is the only part of her that lies. Every inch of her beyond her lips and daggers speak a brutal truth, just as her mind and heart do. Meira grows closer to the source of the colourful smoke plumes, she has a momentary revelation about them. When she had stayed in Denocte, she had read about the Fire Festival that took place between Denocte and Delumine. Meira recalled thinking it was a curious tradition. Now the festival sprawled out before her, inviting her to go and join the swathes of bodies. Meira began to feel the warmth waft from the bonfires the closer she got to them. The dull hum of voices became more distinct as she passed a few of the bonfires where mages were tossing some sort of metal into them. Meira has again stopped, she is mesmerized by the way the flames dance into the sky. She idly wonders if this is what stars look like up close.
Meira is hovering at the edge of the group, but never quite breaking into the circle of bodies that are gathering for the storyteller taking their place at the head of the circle.
