The Wandering Wizard
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Posts posted by The Wandering Wizard
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1 minute ago, SmilingPanda19 said:
She lets her lean.
"Lets get you to bed." She leads her to bed.
"Alright then," she allowed her to lead her to bed and she gave her a hug.
"Tomorrow then?"
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10 minutes ago, SmilingPanda19 said:
She catches her quickly.
"ma'am are you okay? You need some sleep..."
She blinks her eyes wearily, "perhaps Rosie perhaps. But tonight...I can't sleep there's just so much to do an-," she yawned cutting herself off.
"Perhaps I should sleep," she mumbled leaning backwards into her.
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2 minutes ago, SmilingPanda19 said:
She walks out of the room and a few minutes later comes up back in the outfit.
"There... Better?"
She smiled slyly, "much."
She rose and stumbled into her, so exhausted she could barely stand.
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Just now, SmilingPanda19 said:
She hesitates but nods, picking out an outfit from the clothes. "..this one?" It was a suit, the least ridiculous or revealing outfit the woman owned.
She shrugged, "if that's what you'd be most comfortable in Rosie, then yes."
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1 minute ago, SmilingPanda19 said:
She eyes her. "I could never...maam..."
She caught her hand and gently let it go, "please...please would you for me?"
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Just now, SmilingPanda19 said:
"Into...what exactly... Your grace." She doesn't look at her.
"I have some clothes I confiscated from the last President that I think would be wonderful on you," she smiled.
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Just now, SmilingPanda19 said:
She turns her head a little.
"if you insist." She has a slight smile.
"Perhaps you'd like to get changed?" She says with a small grin.
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Just now, SmilingPanda19 said:
She steps in, not wanting to disturb anything. She stays silent for a moment.
"Do you need anything... Maam?"
She smiled softly, "a friend," she whispered. "A evening with a dear, dear friend would be nice."
QuoteWhat's her name? I forgot xD
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2 minutes ago, SmilingPanda19 said:
A quiet voice comes from the doorway.
"Madam Ahna, your grace..." She says, stands in scrub clothes, most certainly a servant or more likely a poor hand maiden.
"You called?" She lowers her head almost in a bow, nearly whispering when she speaks. She had accidentally pressed the call button when she slumped on her desk. Its a very late hour into the evening and nearly early morning and it was apparent on the hand maidens face that she was exhausted.
She barely lifted her head and smiled weakly at her.
"No I didn't call but you're welcome to come in."
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38 minutes ago, Edema Rue said:
Being a mod is a slug, torture scene, power, and fuzzy blankets @Ancient Elantrian
So we both agree… which means we’re both right which means we’re not left… but we are left………..
Already sold my soul to the devil @Ancient Elantrian
you’ve married lots of guys @Ancient Elantrian
Heehee guys Elan is probably high :)))))
EDIT:
Wizzy + human = hugfest @Just-A-Stick
(and @The Wandering Wizard)
...this is true xD
*Wiz sized hugs*
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4 hours ago, Aeoryi said:Quote
TODAY!!
Madam Ahna sighed at her desk in her room. A quiet space she liked to work at. There was so much to do, so much to organize. And there were rumors that some wanted to reinstate the games. It was madness, craziness. But the people were crying for justice on their oppressors.
She sighed and slumped forward onto the desk. It was all just such a mess.
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1 hour ago, Edema Rue said:
...
I'm being p r o d u c t i v e
@Ravenclawjedi42 (I swear it was you but if it wasn't sowwy)
@Robin Sedai @Immortal Platypus @Thaidakar the Ghostblood
@The Wandering Wizard @Just-A-Stick
(Also these are all meant to be funny, with love, if you're offended just yell at me I swear I'm not trying to be passive aggressive or anything)
Eheeheehee they will all be MINE!!!!!
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3 hours ago, Edema Rue said:
Thank you
And thank you
You're both so wonderful, you know that? Shardbrothers are the best
So are shardsisters
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6 hours ago, Edema Rue said:
*hugs back* I'm a lot better now, today's just been a day of many emotions.
I know dear sister
I'm always here
*hugs more*
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31 minutes ago, Edema Rue said:
To the flower on my dresser:
You’re so young.
You’re so alive.
There’s…
There’s so much I wish I could tell you.
You’re so determined to grow.
Do you know how much it will hurt?
Every flower that blossoms on your stalks will wilt.
Every bright color you have now will fade and die so quickly.
It will hurt,
This life you have ahead of you.
It will be lonely,
My sweet Amaryllis.
You will struggle
And break
And be told
That it’s your fault.
You will desperately wish
For someone to tell you it’s okay.
For someone to hold you.
To tell you you’re beautiful,
That you don’t need to be anything more than you are.
And instead,
Their cruel eyes will callously leer at your blooded flowers,
Searching for every imperfection.
And they will find them.
Because you won’t be perfect.
It won’t matter how much you work.
It won’t matter how you turn out.
Because your life is ever-fleeting.
Always drawing nearer
To its inevitable end.
Will you find even a moment of joy in this existence of yours?
Oh, precious flower.
Oh, darling Amaryllis.
Oh, little sprout.
Oh, unknowing bulb.
You’ve no idea.
You don’t know.
And so you keep living.
You keep growing.
Keep striving for perfection.
Keep looking for a life that you’ll never find,
A life that isn’t yours to live.
Do you want to help people?
Do you want to make them smile?
Fix their broken parts?
It doesn’t matter what you want.
You are locked in your prison of wax.
You will never escape.
There is nowhere else where you can grow.
There is nothing you can become besides what you are.
And what you are
Is not what you want.
And never will be.
You’ll never be more,
Than a mildly pretty flower.
Temporary.
Easily forgotten.
Keep dreaming, though.
Keep imagining you’ll be more.
Keep hoping you’re worth something.
Keep thinking you can achieve the perfection you long for so deeply.
Keep growing,
Little flower.
Your blooms are as red as paint on the lips of a lonely girl looking for her love.
And maybe
When that girl finds you instead,
She’ll smile
And take you home.
And then you’ll die.
And she’ll go on living, never remembering that you were there.
That is the best you will ever have, young one.
That is the most your sprout will become.
That is all anyone expects from you.
And,
For you,
Their expectations are a blessing.
Because you can easily surpass them.
Some of us don’t have that luxury,
Amaryllis.
Some of us are drowning in seas of their hopes for us.
But you aren’t.
And you don’t need to care for anyone but yourself.
So keep growing.
Keep caring for yourself.
O,
How shallow you are.
O,
How petty.
Stay on your path.
Grow tall
And straight
And true
And green.
"Flowers bloom until they rot and fall apart."
So bloom, little bud.
Bloom.
And then rot.
Hermes:
He was the fastest.
It was funny, in a twisted sort of way.
Even Zeus couldn’t match his speed.
If they’d been mortals, it would’ve made him important.. The races he won would mean something.
But they weren’t mortals.
And he wasn’t the strongest. Or the cleverest. Or the loveliest. Or the cruelest. He learned, though. There’s no other way to survive as a god. He learned to be fast. He learned to be tricky. And, because rumors only grow, he became the trickiest. The fastest.
And if he’d been a mortal, it would have been enough.
But he wasn’t a mortal,
And his pantheon wanted servants.
And as we’ve mentioned, Hermes was not the strongest, and so he was the one to bend.
After so many years, he should have been used to it.
The bending during every conflict.
The feeling of being known everywhere, and belonging nowhere.
The feeling of being known by all and knowing none, like an actor on a stage, easily recognizable by the entire audience, but lost and alone in a crowd.
Hermes told himself he didn’t mind.
It didn’t matter to him.
He could befriend the friendless. He could visit places even the eldest gods had forgotten. There was no harm in being the messenger.
Being the messenger also meant that with a few well-placed…untruths, he could alter history more than even Zeus, king of the gods.
He tried to be glad.
Tried to be grateful that at least he was “serving something greater than himself.” That’s what the others told him when he voiced his anger.
So he kept it quiet,
And o,
So
Slowly,
His soul began to wither.
His spirit began to die.
Sometimes the messenger gets shot;
Sometimes the constant movement gets so exhausting that there’s no way to
Think
When there’s so much to do it’s impossible to
Feel
You forget, forget everything, until
You
Are
Nothing.
And so Hermes faded.
He lost his colors, his spirit, his hope.
He moved without thinking,
Struggled without caring,
Traveling the paths that had been put before him,
Without pausing to wonder where they might lead.
He faded.
He floated,
Like a leaf on the wind.
He fell,
From a god,
Past a mortal,
To a machine.
To a tool.
After all, he was serving something greater than himself.
He was doing his job.
There was a form of beauty in that, wasn’t there?
Hermes didn’t play tricks anymore.
Didn’t laugh, either.
Once he had served the travelers, given homes to the wanderers.
That didn’t matter, though. Why would it?
Hermes was the fastest.
And so he was the messenger.
The servant of all.
And the friend of none.
Neither of those turned out very pretty or fun, but I'm glad I wrote them, and if you enjoy them then I'm doubly glad, because they'll have done good to others
*hugs hugs hugs*
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10 hours ago, Lotus Blossom said:
An alarm blared. The gravitational capacitors, which had been malfunctioning since the beginning of the games, had broken down. All he could do to fix the poco wasn't enough.
He had made a mistake.
Of course he had.
And now he was falling.
Crashing.
Again.
Like when he had lost his hand.
"No. This can't be happening. My mom's watching me. Razor's watching me. I can't die. I can't lose. I must win." Junior muttered as he fumbled with the controllers. At flight school, his name and location had appeared on the roster. His brother had found his whereabouts at last, and was making his way to pester Junior again for money. For a hideout. To escape the law. To escape jail. Last time his brother had found him, Junior was beat up.
When his name was chosen, he couldn't have been more happy. Either he died in the sky-- really died this time... Or he won. Or eternal fame. Eternal glory. There were no alternatives.
Death.
or Freedom.
Either was welcome. He couldn't tell which was the better choice.
Junior's ship rolled over as it fell. He was looking at the ground, upside down. Everything was approaching too quickly. But still, he felt suspended. In the air. For a moment. He closed his eyes. He remembered, of course, the day that still haunted him. He murdered his mother, an enigmatic free-verse poet. "An accident," they had said. No. The skies knew it wasn't an accident. He would do it again. Having been abandoned by his father, and with a criminal for an older brother, he had no where to turn.
But Razor.
The "congratulations" for staying alive never came. The compensation for crashing his ship? He was practically kidnapped. Forced to be apprenticed to Razor, he was working for the man for free. In exchange, Razor kept him alive. He fed him, gave him shelter in his hangar, and taught him everything he knew.
Razor trained him.
He couldn't be falling now. He had only crashed one ship before. Junior used his arm strength to pull his ship around. Those bullets had really hurt the wings. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw one of his engines blow into flames.
He grew up with Razor. But the failed DDF pilot would hurt him.
With words.
With his hands.He had burns from piloting his scout. He had carved his own scars. He had earned this.
He couldn't fail now.
Not now, when everyone had told him he would fail.
No, this was the time to rise.
This, above others, was when Junior had to win.
Junior was fed up with constantly being less than. Being worse. Being inferior to Razor. To his mother's scudding poetry. To the world. No. Now was when he would be powerful.
As the crash approached, Junior got more and more frantic.
He wouldn't die here, but if he did, he had to speak with Razor. He had to say something. He had to write something down- he was good at writing, wasn't he?
He hadn't spoken to Razor since the argument.
But Junior was right in the argument. He had been trained well by Razor. And he had trained for many years. His debt surely was paid off in his labor. As he grew older, he began to realize this. He told Razor that he would fly his entire life. He told Razor that his future was to become a DDF pilot. Razor told him he would fail. Junior disagreed.
He could throw the man in jail.
Razor was kicked out and banned from being a DDF pilot. To make a living, he would take old aircrafts or ships that were broken that people dropped off in his hangar and repair them. He sold some of the parts of the aircrafts on the black market, yet lie about it and receive money in exchange for the repairs. This is what Junior helped him with in the hangar.
It was illegal.
Junior signed up for flight school, without any protection from Razor or otherwise. He has no means to pay for it, but he was there. He couldn't die now. He wouldn't die now. He had to live.
He opened his eyes.
Maybe it wasn't about winning the hunger games. Maybe it wasn't death or glory. Maybe it was simply freedom. Junior would let no one manipulate his life. Maybe he didn't have to crash. Maybe he didn't have to win. Maybe he could just live.
Junior smiled and pulled on his helmet. "Aria?" he said over the communication headset, "I don't know where you are or if you're still alive, but I wanted to let you know that I'm doing wonderfully on this fine morning!"
He grinned as he gained back the controls and lifted his ship upwards, tilting the poco. He could almost feel the rush of cold air as he flew the ship and landed it. It was rough, and the impact of the land had banged up the aircraft. It was already falling apart, so the ship was pretty much destroyed. But that didn't bother him.
Junior stepped down and looked around himself. He took a breath of the fresh air. He gazed upon the arena, filled with confusion. Among the few remaining tributes, who were alive yet weak and not holding up well, there were scatterings of rebels, with arm bands that branded them as such.
One rebel greeted him in front of the ship. Junior stood still.
"Olviere," The man smiled, holding out his arms. The name stung. "Olviere Torsun. I love you."
It was his father.
His father, who hadn't known about him killing his mother. His father, who hadn't know about his callsign. His father, who hadn't known about his childhood. His father, who hadn't known about the villanelles he had written or his brother or the leatherbound notebook or how hard it had been. How hard life had been. His father, who hadn't know about Razor. His father, who was a rebel. Who had come to save him.
Slowly, Junior walked towards him. He grinned brighter than he ever had before, and hugged his father, tears streaming down his face. There was so much to say. But there were only two words that he could say now. Two words that Junior had never said before. Two words that he had thought he would never hear himself say.
"I'm sorry."
It was then that he realized something.
No matter how dark the world could be.
How cold.
How lonely.
How damp.
How tragic.
Despite all this, still: The world could be so, so beautiful.
And that was what would be written on the next clean page of Junior's notebook.
QuoteWoah that's beautiful
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20 minutes ago, Roosif said:
I recently got a priesthood blessing. I was so nervous to ask my dad for it, but as soon as I did I knew I made the right choice. He took me into his room, closing the door and laying his hands on my head. The words he said brought me comfort. But there was another thing that he said; "Listen to His promptings. But as you ignore them, they will be harder to hear." I realized that I had been ignoring the Holy Ghost recently, and that's why I've been sad, depressed, and overall crappy. I am so grateful for the priesthood ^ ^ It brings me peace that the world can not.
That's kinda what mine was like in a way. Glad you got guidance and comfort
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20 hours ago, Roosif said:
That's awesome! Where are you hoping you'll go?
Just where ever the Lord needs me :))
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56 minutes ago, Roosif said:
Merry christmas. Your story reminds me of when my older brother left on his mission last year. My family was struggling because of it, so the night before he left to the MTC, we all got priesthood blessings. The moment my older brother laid his hands on my head, I knew he would be okay
merry Christmas all!
I'm working on my papers right now
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I received a blessing yesterday that was the answer to many months of struggling with health challenges (mental and physical). It’s not all immediately better but I have hope and guidance which I didn't have before.
There is great power in the priesthood.
Have a wonderful Christmas all
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5 hours ago, Edema Rue said:
Heeheeheeheehee...
@Lightweaver2 @The Wandering Wizard @Just a Silvereye (can't remember if you're reading my Liz stuff)
LIZ AND MARI *giggles*
Liz was sitting in darkness. It was fitting, almost. The Lady of Darkness was finally home, finally in her own domain. She wondered, faintly, what Ien would tell the people. Would he say that she was dead? Or would he hold her over them, a threat, a promise that if they didn’t obey him, she would get out? Liz hoped it wouldn’t be that way. It wasn’t a particularly heroic way to live, and the goal was a hero…but Mari would help with that. Her love would soften him, keep him from becoming too solid, too hard. He needed to be a tree, not a boulder. Because Siylna’s champion would be a rock. Their duel would not be beauty if they were only fighting each other like little boys with sticks.
No. Ien needed to be more than that. He needed to be able to grow. Roots could shatter stone, and her hero needed to be the same way. A slow smile spread across her face. Ien was strong. He would break Siylna’s champion, and then…his story wouldn’t end with their bet. And hers wouldn’t either. Someday, he’ll find a way to break me. Liz would never admit it, but she relished the thought. Looked forward to the day he would come for her and be able to destroy her.
Liz sat up, hearing a faint noise. After a moment, she heard it again, and she leaned back, letting out a quiet sigh. It wasn’t Ien. His footsteps were strong, brave. These were more like that of a mouse. Not quiet enough for one of her assassins, not loud enough for a guard…Liz could see the light now, casting long shadows into empty cells. The footsteps paused just out of sight and Liz smiled darkly, knowing what that mouse was doing. Preparing herself to confront an enemy.
“You coming, Mari?” She called, her voice silky and playful. “I don’t bite, little mouse.” Well, not most of the time. For this girl, she might make an exception…she forced the emotions away. You are above this. She is a tool. She is not worthy of your anger.
Mari rounded the corner, and only years of careful practice kept Liz from gasping, or even reacting. She didn’t look like a prisoner, though that was to be expected. But she didn’t look like a farm girl, either. She didn’t even look like a noble. No. The girl looked like a Queen. Her jeweled crown seemed like an extension of herself. Her golden hair cascaded down her back, glowing in the firelight. Her dress was a pale lavender, a mockery of Liz’s own deep purple silks, and her eyes were hard and strong.
Liz saw it all and despaired. Despaired for the light that radiated from her. Despaired for the love this…this girl got to share with Ien. Despaired because she was alone.
“I am your Queen,” Mari said simply. “You must learn that you don’t control me, or anyone.”
Liz glared cockily. “I serve no one. Especially not you, little mouse.”
Mari smiled softly. Pitying, almost. Liz wanted to tear her to shreds. “I didn’t say you serve me. I wouldn’t want you to if you begged on your knees.”
Liz sighed and leaned back against the wall. “Why are you here?”
“Maybe I’m going to try my hand at killing you,” Mari said smoothly.
Liz’s eyes widened, just barely, but it was too much. She cursed inwardly. The girl’s just trying to get under your skin…she’s learned quickly. “Please do, little mouse,” Liz said, snorting. “Maybe I’ll kill you first.” She lunged forward suddenly, her chains snapping taught. They twisted painfully at her arms, but she was rewarded as Mari took a sharp breath and stumbled backwards. She laughed. “Poor child…scared of the dark? Scared of me?” She snarled, almost like a rabid animal.
***
Mari stepped forward again, smoothing her dress. “I don’t fear you,” she said. And it was true. She didn’t fear Liz. This wretch, chained in a cell, struggling to hold on to some shred of power? No. She was not afraid. In fact…Mari shoved down her excitement. It was not fitting for her to enjoy the pain of another, not even someone like this…but oh, she wanted to. After all this woman had done to her, had done to Ien… “Tell me,” she said bluntly. “How could you hurt someone you love so much?”
Mari couldn’t see Liz, her cell was unnaturally dark, but she heard the chains clinking. “Me? Love him?” Her voice was flat and emotionless. As cold and cruel as she’d always been. Mari almost doubted, then, but…she’d seen Liz’s eyes. She’d seen the longing even as the monster had been breaking Ien, poor Ien, to pieces.
So Mari laughed. She could play this game. Liz was nothing compared to the court she’d grown accustomed to. “Are you going to lie to me, rat?”
***
Fine. What harm will it do to talk to the girl? I only need to let Ien fall in love with her, only a little longer now, only until Siylna sends her message, and then I’ll kill her, no, worse, I’ll let her live. I’ll carve her precious face until even Ien will scorn her, I’ll break every one of her clever fingers, her blood will run until she begs for mercy…
“No,” Liz decided. “I love Ien. I’ve loved him since you were still moseying around your pitiful slum of a village. I held him while you were still traipsing around in the mud. He–and I–are more than you could ever be. You are nothing. You are a pawn in this game, a tool to serve me until your use expires. Ien is a king, and I am the queen. You have no place here,” she hissed. Even as the words were leaving her mouth, Liz knew it was a mistake. But stars, it felt good.
Mari frowned. “You said…before. Before you brought Ien into the dungeon. You remember our conversation?”
Of course I remember…it was the last time Liz could really recall being afraid. Afraid that she’d messed up. That she’d break Ien. Break the only boy she had ever loved, and who had loved her back. Maybe. Once. She remembered her exact words.
“‘He doesn’t deserve to be alone.’ You told me that,” Mari said, as if echoing Liz’s own thoughts. “You put me in a cell next to him on purpose.”
“Yes,” Liz whispered.
“You wanted us to fall in love. You wanted it to work out like this.”
Liz nodded, then remembered that she was cloaked in shadows. “I did.” I did. Everything is going exactly the way I wanted it to. It’s all…it’s all going so well…so why does it hurt so much?
“Why?” Mari demanded. “Did you know Ien would beat you? Did you know you would fall? Does…does some part of you understand what a monster you are?”
Liz laughed bitterly, letting the shadows fall from around her. “You know nothing of my plans, little mouse. Scurry off, now. You gain nothing from being here.” And if you stay any longer, I might just kill you, and that would ruin everything…
***
Mari leaned forward, intrigued. She saw something in Liz’s eyes. Something past the cold, dangerous magic. Liz was…she was…she was angry. But it wasn’t the anger that came with insanity. No…it was the anger that followed sadness. It was the bitter rage that came from sharpening the edges of a broken heart into daggers. “You really do love him,” she whispered.
Liz bowed her head, and Mari found herself wanting to…to comfort her? No, no, she’s a monster. She doesn’t know what love is. She wants to kill you, and Ien, and she would do it…she would do it… “I do,” Liz said.
“He’ll never love you,” Mari said, suddenly feeling oddly defensive.
“You think I don’t know that?” Liz snapped. “Do you think I’ve missed the hatred in his eyes every time he looks at me? Do you think I just haven’t noticed the way he looks at you? Do you think I expect him to put aside all his scars, everything I’ve done to him and to his people to wrap his arms around me and hold me like he used to?” Liz stood up, staring Mari in the eyes. “I know him, girl. I know all the pieces of him. I changed him from a scholar to a hero and I loved him all the while. And I know that he will never forgive me. I know. I know the road I’m on. This endless, lonely road.”
Liz spat, then, and Mari ached for her. Ached for the pain she knew so well. Could this…
Could this have been me?
Would I have ever resorted to becoming this?
“You chose this…” She said slowly.
“Get out,” Liz snarled. “Get out now, unless you’d like to learn how little these chains are holding me back.”
Mari wanted to stay. She wanted to…
Oh, spirits.
She wanted to help this monster.
So she left. Not because Liz told her to; because she needed to clear her head. Because though it was a queen’s duty to care for her people, it would do no one any good if she started trying to understand such a creature.
***
Liz watched her go, bringing her shadows back up and catching her breath. “Attend.”
A figure stepped out of the darkness in a cell opposite her. “You always know,” the man marveled. “How did you…?”
Liz didn’t answer. Instead, she asked a question of her own. “Are you doing as I commanded?”
The man nodded sharply. “Yes, my Queen. We’ve told King Iendenn that we serve the sovereign. That we are his.”
“Does he believe you?”
The man smiled, a quick flash of sharp white. “Yes. And he needs all the help he can get, so as much as he hates us…we are very competent. He’s using us.”
“Good,” Liz said, leaning back and thinking. After a moment, the man spoke again.
“I…my Queen.”
“Yes?”
“I must say, I don’t…that is…some of the others. They wonder why we should obey a chained queen, even one such as yourself.”
Liz smiled darkly. “Do you trust me, Assassin?”
“Of course not,” he said.
“Good. Will you obey me?”
“I will, my Queen. But many of the others…”
“Bring them here,” Liz said. A purple glow spread into her shadows. “I’ll show them just how chained I am.”
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27 minutes ago, Edema Rue said:
Okay.
This girl isn’t Mari.
She isn’t anyone, actually. You’ll never see her again. But she’s helping me build Mari.
And it was cool to write a story in poem format.
So yay!!
(also ack italics on a phone are a pain)
Anew:
The girl sat in the dust,
All that remained of a life she’d hoped to live.
And she looked up,
To the coolly angry sun.
It was harsh and unyielding.
So she bowed her head,
And let her tears fall in the shadow,
Where the sun could not reach.
She cried for many things.
She cried for the dreams, now shattered and broken.
She cried for her love, who’d left her so easily.
She cried with longing for another home she had to leave.
But she stood up anyway.
Her tears dried in the sunlight.
And her heart trembled.
She looked up to the sun and she cursed it. “Still watching me?”
She asked bitterly.
“Fine, then.
You see me.
You know my heart.”
She shivered, though the desert was hot.
“You know that I’m scared. Scared for all the wrong reasons.”
And, to the girl’s surprise, a voice whispered back.
And what are those reasons?
The girl froze, but after a moment, she answered.
“I’m afraid,”
She whispered,
“Not to die, but to live.
I’m afraid,
Not that I’ll never fall in love,
But that I will.”
And the voice in her head,
It murmured assent.
It understood.
And then it sank deeper. It searched the girl’s mind for reasons, and answers, and the girl tried to run but she could not run, there is no way to run from a demon in your mind, be it the sun or the moon or something from the dark.
And memories floated out,
Drawn to the voice like moths to a flame.
The girl found herself remembering her first love. A boy with bright eyes and an excited grin. He would run, bringing her flowers and pretty stones. And she thought she loved him.
She remembered other lovers.
The one who wrote her poems,
And fought with the one who wrote her songs.
The one who placed a chain of gold around her throat,
And the one who gave her his bread when she was starving.
The one who held her when she cried,
And the one who broke in her arms.
She remembered the families they’d promised her, the lives they’d sworn to help her live.
And she remembered how it felt to be in love with them. With the lives, that is. With the promises. With not being alone, and believing that she would never again be alone.
It felt like leaning on a boulder. Something sure and strong and unchanging.
And losing it…
Losing it felt like an earthquake.
Like the very ground was falling from beneath her feet.
“Why?” She asked the voice, squeezing her eyes shut as if she could block it all out.
The voice echoed the question. Why? Why do you keep caring? If it hurts you every time, why do you keep trying?
“I don’t…I don’t know,” The girl whispered. But as she said it, she knew it wasn’t true. “No. It’s…I…I don’t think I can help it. I can’t help it. Because I want it, I really do, and I always think it’ll be different, better, that it’ll last this time, and…I’m naive. There’s your answer,” she spat.
But you are brave too, the voice decided.
“No, I’m not,”
The girl snorted,
Squinting into the light.
“If I were brave,
That would mean it’s my choice.”
You’re still alive, aren’t you?
The words chilled the girl,
Chilled her,
To the depths
Of
Her
Soul.
She ignored it,
And walked on.
With every step,
She grew stronger,
And the pain faded.
The girl kept walking.
She wasn’t sure for how long.
But eventually,
After her throat was sandier than the ground around her,
And her eyes were blurred
With mirages
Of water,
The girl saw a wagon.
No, two.
They were surrounded by figures.
And they saw her.
And ran out to meet her.
And welcomed her into their little home.
The voice watched the girl,
From the back of her mind.
It watched
As she gave herself a new name.
It pondered
As she remembered how to smile,
And laugh.
It was silent
As she found a new home.
It made no sound
As she thought it a hallucination,
A mirage,
Like everything else.
It did not speak,
Until the little tribe
Arrived at a city,
And left her
Alone.
I understand,
It whispered into the back of her mind.
And the girl stiffened
On her bed in the inn.
“You’re there?”
Yes.
And I understand.
The girl was silent.
You may not control
All that you feel.
But you are still here,
And you still let yourself laugh,
Because it’s worth the pain.
“Is it?” The girl asked,
Eyes red,
Heart broken,
Hope trembling.
Yes,
The voice decided.
And because someday,
It will be real.
“I’m still afraid,”
The girl said.
I know,
The voice replied.
And I know being with them
Didn’t take away your fear.
But the laughter,
And the tears,
Are better
Than years
And years
Of nothing.
And the girl,
Once she was threw with crying,
And falling,
And tearing at her hair,
She agreed.
And she moved on.
And she found people to love,
Wherever she went.
And she cried,
And she laughed,
And she lived.
1 -
7 hours ago, Edema Rue said:
“I…don’t either…” Fen said. By the star, I’m bad at this.
A few stray tears leaking from her eyes and she quickly moved to wipe them away. "Sorry...it’s a rather gloomy subject..."
Why...why did I start with that one.
0 -
34 minutes ago, Edema Rue said:
Eddie took a deep breath. I can…I can try.
A feeling of warmth flowed from Lilyana to her and she nuzzled her with her snout, I know you can do this Eddie....and I love you.
0
Cytoverse Hunger Games
in Hunger Games
Posted
She breathed hot onto her neck, "mmm I think I already know your answer, my Rose."