[AW] we walk in fields of gold

[Elena]

elena
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happiness is a butterfly, we should catch it while dancing

T

he world keeps on spinning, repeating itself over and over until something changes, which it doesn’t, it never does, because no one ever truly changes because they can’t.

Kensa once told her that Hyaline was more of a home to her than the land to which she was born. Elena, at the time, had not understood. Windskeep, Paraiso, her family’s lands they would always be home. But as she stands here now, in Terrastella, she understands the feeling and the reasoning. She swallows back the tears that threaten to rise up her throat, the reminder of all that she has tried to accomplish. She doubts that a day will go by when she does not see the vision of Marisol, bloodied and broken at her Hospital doorsteps. She doubts she will ever be the same again. She tries not to look too far ahead. For Dusk, for Elliana, for herself, and all the things that go along with it. She cant look that far ahead, too many things can change, too many things have already changed. 

She frowns. Pointedly. Doesn’t bother trying to hide it. But it is neither anger nor confusion that furrows her brow. It is concentration instead. She bites her tongue and tries to determine why she’d thought herself fit to do this in the first place. Why she thought she would be able the impossible chasms that are Marisol’s footprints. The frown dissolves around the edges of a grimace. There is nothing queenly about her. Elena’s crown is strewn through her hair as Dusk wildflowers instead of made of gold and planted upon her head. There is nothing grand or great that stands out. 

The sun is stretching slowly towards the horizon, casting a warm, reddish glow onto the golden mare that stands quietly near the edges of the lapping waves, and she is ignited in the dying light. Her blue gaze, distant and unfocused, stares out at the expanse of gold-tinged water that ripples before her before she walks in from the balcony. 

It was time. 

“Azrael,” she breathes when she sees him. She seeks out his stability in this moment, the only kind of stability she could find in the steadiness of his eyes. She so quickly unravels and so quickly feels the edges of her threads fray and he doesn’t. He is the calm in the storm.E lena is terrified and she cannot begin to figure out how to express such a fear. It is him and him alone that stops herself from fluttering and coming undone and she clings to it. She presses his calm into her chest until she can breathe a little easier. Shaken, she presses her forehead into the width of his neck and breathes in deeply, trying to stabilize and not focus on all the fears that materialize around her.

Her breath is shaky but the longer that she stays there, pressed against him, she can feel her pulse start to stabilize.

Maybe this fear, this uncertainty, maybe it will make her a bad queen.

Maybe she should have thought of this before. 

It takes all she has to leave his side, but she makes her way to the front of the castle and she hands herself over to the incessant pounding of her heart, her pulse thrumming in her throat. Her smile grows softly, curling the edges of her lips, and she laughs, the sound low and easy and kind and she steps into the dying light of the day and into the Court, her Court. “Dusk,” she says to them all, blue eyes scanning over the crowd. “I have always considered myself first and foremost a healer and a friend, two things I wish to remain to all of you,” she says, standing taller, a sunset breeze catches her blonde hair just as stars twinkle above. “But I now come before you as your Queen, your sovereign.” The words feel foreign in her mouth. “I have served as your medic, as your Champion of Community, and now I wish to serve you in the highest regard as your leader.”

“In return, from all of you, I ask only for peace and harmony across the land, our land, and that all beings who call Dusk home, hold only good intentions in their hearts.” She catches herself as she speaks. She sounds like Valerio, and there is a swell of pride in her chest as she thinks of her godfather and the guardian he had been. “A time of change has come to Novus, let us stand tall and strong together,” she encourages. She turns her gaze to Marisol, catching her steel gaze. She wants to cry, then, more than any time else, because she no longer wants to shed a tear only for herself, but for her commander. Marisol would always have such a place carved in Elena’s heart. “Blessed be the fight, we are Terrastellans, and let us hold that to be true above all else.”

@any! elena speaks

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