she was half human..
half universe.
She was a battlefield of fallen soldiers and pent up anger amidst a meadow of fresh blossoms.
How brave.
The sun's rays were a mockery to her, as the stormsinger strode through the morning dew under a dappled expanse of trees. They had told her going outside would help her. They had told her that she needed rest, and relaxation. That maybe, just maybe, the flowers could lighten her spirits. It was spring, after all. And she had carelessly listened to her healers, in any hope that their words would bring a ring of truth to her ears. But her wing still laid tattered and ruined at her side; bound in hapless bandages and the bones shattered. What had been a twin to what made her great appendages whole, her wing had been shredded. Destroyed.
And it was all his fault.
So what does the birdfetching bitch say?
Her face screwed up into a grimace; cruel and a perfect mirror of the shadows that ripped open her heart where it laid in her ribs. A sun-sweet breeze tickled her feathers, her mane, and she nearly cried at the wind's touch. When once, not so long ago, she had found her home amongst the stars, the freedom of flight.. now, she was grounded. She, grounded. Chained to the earth. And it was that Solterran's fault.. her fault. If only she had been stronger, then maybe her wing would not have been damaged. Maybe she would still be free. Maybe the sun's drops on the ebony of her skin would warm the cold burden in her chest.
And maybe the pink flowers beneath her hooves would not remind her of her freshly spilled blood on a blanket of new snow.
She could feel the silver lining her eyes, and the ache that burned where her bones were splinted at her side. The stormsinger was weak, stumbling through the meadow without the usual silence to her steps. Aislinn found that she didn't care, except that she had to keep moving, to get away. The world under her swayed too dangerously, and his words did not cease to replay across the records of her mind. She was caught, caged, bruised, and broken. And she did not know to escape from it..
I'm afraid not, Alba. Best try again.
The breath in her lungs hitched; paused, burning in her throat. How long had she been holding it? How long had she stood there, a statue of bloodied stars and shadows under the pristine beauty of the forest's newborn spring? Under the mountain, she thought she could hide.. but no. Someone else was here, and they weren't alone. If she should try to leave, her injuries would not allow her the luxury of silence.
So she stood, still and wondrous, and completely unlike her boldness from before. Before.. the injury.
..Not bloody likely, at this rate.
Blood. Splattered on white; crimson and contrasted under a starless sky. No. She couldn't stay. No no no, they had been wrong. So very wrong. Her hooves scrambled, suddenly and incredibly quick. But all too fast, too sudden. She had not healed, not completely. Her legs gave, stumbling, slipping on the damp earth beneath her. A gasp escaped her before she could hold her breath. No. She couldn't. She couldn't. She could not.
Not now.
@Somnus ♡ eeep here, have an anxious ash.
