and bury it before it buries me
There is a pulse in the earth.
If she stands still enough, she swears she can feel it.
Never mind that it compounds the ache in her chest. Never mind that sometimes she holds her breath so long that it makes her vision swim. Never mind that she can never seem to make anything last. Can never make anyone – including herself – stay.
Today she feels a thousand years old. That slow, slow pulse of the earth lives in her veins and it beats and beats and beats, thrumming in her ears. She walks through Dusk Court, attending to the needs of those who have come to the festival. She greets those from Dawn and those from Day. She sees those from Night, hopes she does not see two faces that hang in the back of her mind like a ghost. But there are some that recognize her from knowing Elliana, they say “your daughter is a delight,” “kind of quiet isn’t she?” And Elena nods and laughs before scampering off.
She watches from a distance a girl who sits down beside one of the court’s stone walls, her body slumped, her head full of exhaustion. She wonders, if she is one of the poor that roam the streets, with no place to call their own, and it is this that spurns her forwards, never one to shy away from those who need her. The gusts and the flowers could wait.
The girls slumbers, or perhaps has fainted, Elena gathers with the crowd. “Excuse me,” she says moving past them, her silver bell voice ringing enough that some part. “Please, I am a healer,” she says, despite her position as Champion, Elena would still lend her skills to those who needed her.
Once she opens her eyes, the crowd starts to move, to leave, as if no longer interested in the tired creature, but Elena stays, cannot manage to pull herself away. “I don’t think so,” Elena says, taking her words as an invitation to move closer. “But can I help you?”
If she stands still enough, she swears she can feel it.
Never mind that it compounds the ache in her chest. Never mind that sometimes she holds her breath so long that it makes her vision swim. Never mind that she can never seem to make anything last. Can never make anyone – including herself – stay.
Today she feels a thousand years old. That slow, slow pulse of the earth lives in her veins and it beats and beats and beats, thrumming in her ears. She walks through Dusk Court, attending to the needs of those who have come to the festival. She greets those from Dawn and those from Day. She sees those from Night, hopes she does not see two faces that hang in the back of her mind like a ghost. But there are some that recognize her from knowing Elliana, they say “your daughter is a delight,” “kind of quiet isn’t she?” And Elena nods and laughs before scampering off.
She watches from a distance a girl who sits down beside one of the court’s stone walls, her body slumped, her head full of exhaustion. She wonders, if she is one of the poor that roam the streets, with no place to call their own, and it is this that spurns her forwards, never one to shy away from those who need her. The gusts and the flowers could wait.
The girls slumbers, or perhaps has fainted, Elena gathers with the crowd. “Excuse me,” she says moving past them, her silver bell voice ringing enough that some part. “Please, I am a healer,” she says, despite her position as Champion, Elena would still lend her skills to those who needed her.
Once she opens her eyes, the crowd starts to move, to leave, as if no longer interested in the tired creature, but Elena stays, cannot manage to pull herself away. “I don’t think so,” Elena says, taking her words as an invitation to move closer. “But can I help you?”
so take away this apathy
bury it before it buries me
@Meira
![[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
