and bury it before it buries me
Elena had once tried to convince herself that solitude was best. Alone meant that no one could hurt her, she could not be led into the lion’s den. Alone meant there were no hounds chomping at her ankles. Alone meant there was no lavender, no bonfires, no stars, no waterfalls, no moments passed by a hundred times until finally the line was crossed and history laughed. Yet she has been alone countless times since and still things around her hurt.
Silence bleeds from her skin, though the golden girl still manages something like a smile on her lips. Elena does not have the same beauty as the kelpie mare. Elena is more delicate, refined, a golden little bell. But Boudika, she is another beauty entirely, more raw, less polished, she is the beast of the hunt, of primal hunger. She is a predator to her core. She tastes of something other worldly and Elena wants to cling to it. Do not think Elena weak though, even when she stands next to someone so much stronger than she will ever be. The truth was, that for all of Elena’s softness and quiet nature, there was steel beneath it. She may not be loud or bright or intense, but there was an understated strength, an unwavering her own golden core.
She inhales and the sound is ragged in her chest, like the wind rattling branches and loosing leaves from their moorings. Elena too has the sea inside her. It is the reason that even now, as she stands here, she aches for her seaside home and to hear the crashing waves. She hates her silent world here, the wind does not howl through the trees in quite the same way the sea swells.
Boudika. The name falls on her tongue, but over it rests another name, far more familiar. Lilliana. Why is she thinking of her crimson cousin when she is here? Maybe because she can feel the chill of Lilli’s disapproving stare behind her eyes. But what does she have to disapprove of? She has not gone back to the boy of shadows, she did not desire him in such a way. (Lies. All lies. She hungered for that part of him, that part that felt so impossibly out of reach.) But Boudika is no Lilliana, it is seen in the way her eyes grow wild instead of soft when she meets the blue of Elena’s own.
And then Boudika meets the forest while Elena looks to the mountains. No, neither of them are meant to hunt alone. Boudika is the water horse, diving below the deep to reach the others. Tenebrae is their wolf, howling towards the moon, sinking into shadows. And Elena, Valerio had always told her the legacies were as brave as lions, and just as loyal. They were a pride, in the way they stood by each other and in the way they raised their heads to face the challenges that came. “That’s admirable, Boudika.” She says, though whether or not she wishes the same for herself remains to be seen.
Watch out for wolves, Elena.
The palomino points herself in the direction Boudika tells her. She too continues onwards, and does not turn to face her. She believes they will not see each other again, though she also believes they have no ties than this thin string, in the forest of the night.
Silence bleeds from her skin, though the golden girl still manages something like a smile on her lips. Elena does not have the same beauty as the kelpie mare. Elena is more delicate, refined, a golden little bell. But Boudika, she is another beauty entirely, more raw, less polished, she is the beast of the hunt, of primal hunger. She is a predator to her core. She tastes of something other worldly and Elena wants to cling to it. Do not think Elena weak though, even when she stands next to someone so much stronger than she will ever be. The truth was, that for all of Elena’s softness and quiet nature, there was steel beneath it. She may not be loud or bright or intense, but there was an understated strength, an unwavering her own golden core.
She inhales and the sound is ragged in her chest, like the wind rattling branches and loosing leaves from their moorings. Elena too has the sea inside her. It is the reason that even now, as she stands here, she aches for her seaside home and to hear the crashing waves. She hates her silent world here, the wind does not howl through the trees in quite the same way the sea swells.
Boudika. The name falls on her tongue, but over it rests another name, far more familiar. Lilliana. Why is she thinking of her crimson cousin when she is here? Maybe because she can feel the chill of Lilli’s disapproving stare behind her eyes. But what does she have to disapprove of? She has not gone back to the boy of shadows, she did not desire him in such a way. (Lies. All lies. She hungered for that part of him, that part that felt so impossibly out of reach.) But Boudika is no Lilliana, it is seen in the way her eyes grow wild instead of soft when she meets the blue of Elena’s own.
And then Boudika meets the forest while Elena looks to the mountains. No, neither of them are meant to hunt alone. Boudika is the water horse, diving below the deep to reach the others. Tenebrae is their wolf, howling towards the moon, sinking into shadows. And Elena, Valerio had always told her the legacies were as brave as lions, and just as loyal. They were a pride, in the way they stood by each other and in the way they raised their heads to face the challenges that came. “That’s admirable, Boudika.” She says, though whether or not she wishes the same for herself remains to be seen.
Watch out for wolves, Elena.
The palomino points herself in the direction Boudika tells her. She too continues onwards, and does not turn to face her. She believes they will not see each other again, though she also believes they have no ties than this thin string, in the forest of the night.
so take away this apathy
bury it before it buries me
@Boudika
![[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
