A
ll day he has felt that unnameable ache in his soul again. He can feel it splintering, can feel each bit of it being pulled in different directions. And he is there in the middle of it, refusing to let go of any of them, and feeling as though he is losing them all in the process.He stands on the edge of the plains that mark the border of Delumine and listen to the trees whispering behind him. And the only thought that comes to his mind when he looks at the haze shivering on the horizon is this: inevitable. The fracturing of his heart was inevitable. The fate of it was rushing towards him faster than he would care to admit.
But he turns. And despite the aching that increases with every step he puts between himself and the desert, he returns to the court.
It is a relief to find the letter waiting for him like another piece of himself returned home.
As he carefully collects the letter and unwinds it, it feels like are still some soft parts left of his soul left. And he lets it hang there like a stone in his belly, like a reminder to guard those last remaining pieces. He reads her letter with a gentle smile, as he walks through the halls. And it is in the garden beneath the outstretched arms of a flowering dogwood that he settles to write her back.
My dear friend,
I did not realize how badly I needed to hear from you until I opened your last letter. Your words, your stories, have lifted my spirits. Please, come to our festival if you can and I will meet you there. Nothing would make me happier than to see a friend again. Come, come, come, and before the season ends I will go to you and see your tulips in return.
I am sorry to hear about your patient. It is both an honor and a burden to be there for the sick; you are strong, Elena. I cannot imagine being in your place.
It is the desert. Orestes has gone and I can hear it crying out even from here in Delumine. The earth is aching and I — I am aching, with it. I ache for my daughters and their growing pains. I ache for Thana and the wildness of her that does not belong here. Have I told you that I was born in Solterra? That, too, brings me pain. I feel torn in too many directions, Elena. It is shredding me like the bark of a eucalyptus tree.
I hope you are right about Elliana. My daughters — their magic is wilder than mine. I do not fully understand it yet, but it as much a magic of life as it is of death. I suppose it is fitting in that sense. I do not know if they can control it; worse, I fear they are in perfect control. What of Elliana, and her gift?
The first time I came to Terrastella I was only a boy. I believe I was only a yearling when they placed me in my first foster home there (and oh! how different it was from Solterra; how much lighter the air felt there in your Court.) I was prone to wander, even as a boy, and on one of my wanderings I came across a small steller’s jay whose wing had been broken. It took some time, but I was able to bring him to the healers and begged them to help. In a few short weeks he was flying again, and after that he rarely left my side.
I wish you could have met him. Seeing him fly for the first time is something I often reflect upon.
Signed,
Ipomoea
ofthe Dawn CourtOOC | @Elena
art by rhiann
