prayed to keep my soul
S
ometimes her mother looks at her and it is as if she has seen a ghost. Elliana should know this best. But she has little time to think as her companion comes over to her, a biscuit, no doubt from some place he should not have gotten it from. “You need to stop thieving, Jack,” she chatters to him as his noisily munches, climbing up onto her shoulders. She then turns to her mother’s voice, the sound of her calling her name on her lips. Another ghost—no, this time it is a shadow. Trip, an adventure, she did not need to say anything more. Elliana bounces along her side as they walk the familiar path to Night Court. And she spies Maeve up ahead, racing off in an instant, her companion clings tighter to her shoulders, terrified of flying from Elli’s back. Maeve slips in front of her, and Elliana quickly pulls to a halt. “Maeve!” She cheers excitedly. “Are you okay?” She asks, pushing her nose out towards her friend. The adults talk, they always, always talk. Sometimes Elliana tries to listen, but she hears so many people speak so often in the dark, that in the day, sometimes she just wants the quiet grace of friendship and childhood.
“Elli,” she tells the grown up she does not know. Elli, because Elliana is too heavy for her shoulders, it is too square to fit comfortable in her mouth, and too large for her tongue to wrap around. She quickly returns to Maeve, Jack sliding around her shoulders at the mention of him. “Yeah, he is,” she says, looking to Maeve with blue eyes. “What have you been up to? Were you and your mom playing in the snow?” She asks. “Where is your bird?” Simple questions, simple simple questions. As simple as the way the snow floats to the ground, and winter settles in around them.
@Morrighan elliana speaks
elliana
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