09-20-2026, 05:08 PM
— i would rather learn what it feels like to burn than feel nothing at all —
It has been days now since her brush with death.
Her lungs still ached, and there is a faint rattle when she inhales. But her bones no longer felt heavy, not the way they had when she had finally awoken on the frozen bank. Some would say that she is lucky to be alive, but it had not been relief that she had felt when her eyes opened to the bleary, unfocused view of a mountain range pressed against a bright blue sky. Laying in the snow, with the fire on her skin slowly rekindling and flickering to life, she had not felt grateful to have avoided such a wretched end. She hadn’t felt disappointed either, though; just a dull indifference.
Something is different, though she cannot yet pinpoint it.
There are strange, irregular patches on her body where the fire had not yet returned, revealing instead a charred surface and a fire-glow orange beneath it. She assumes that the fire will return later. As much as she wanted to brush off what had happened, she supposes there is a chance that being submerged in such icy waters for a considerable time had inflicted some type of damage. She tried not to think about that, and what it could mean; if she would be forced to learn to navigate the world with a new kind of damage.
Here in the meadow, spring is well upon the land, and she revels in the warmth. She had departed from the mountains as quickly as her frozen bones would allow her to, and she cannot deny that it is a relief to see a field of green, awash in the golden glow of the afternoon sun. The meadow is the one place she has realized that always seemed unchanged, safe, the anchor that kept Beqanna from becoming unmoored. She would have been content to settle on the outskirts to simply observe and perhaps finally seek rest for her body that had so recently cheated death if not for a familiar face that she catches at the corner of her vision. She turns her head, holding him in her firelit gaze, hesitating. She is terrible at companionship, conversation, and all the other things that could make her even remotely pleasant to be around. But she remembers him and the way he had not been afraid of her fire, and her tired mind thinks that it might be nice to not have to worry for the safety of anyone right now.
“Fireheart,” she recalls his name once she is close enough, her body still burning bright even in the middle of the day, and even with the patches of fire missing. Somewhere beneath the flickering flames on her face she might have offered him a small smile. “It’s been awhile.”
Her lungs still ached, and there is a faint rattle when she inhales. But her bones no longer felt heavy, not the way they had when she had finally awoken on the frozen bank. Some would say that she is lucky to be alive, but it had not been relief that she had felt when her eyes opened to the bleary, unfocused view of a mountain range pressed against a bright blue sky. Laying in the snow, with the fire on her skin slowly rekindling and flickering to life, she had not felt grateful to have avoided such a wretched end. She hadn’t felt disappointed either, though; just a dull indifference.
Something is different, though she cannot yet pinpoint it.
There are strange, irregular patches on her body where the fire had not yet returned, revealing instead a charred surface and a fire-glow orange beneath it. She assumes that the fire will return later. As much as she wanted to brush off what had happened, she supposes there is a chance that being submerged in such icy waters for a considerable time had inflicted some type of damage. She tried not to think about that, and what it could mean; if she would be forced to learn to navigate the world with a new kind of damage.
Here in the meadow, spring is well upon the land, and she revels in the warmth. She had departed from the mountains as quickly as her frozen bones would allow her to, and she cannot deny that it is a relief to see a field of green, awash in the golden glow of the afternoon sun. The meadow is the one place she has realized that always seemed unchanged, safe, the anchor that kept Beqanna from becoming unmoored. She would have been content to settle on the outskirts to simply observe and perhaps finally seek rest for her body that had so recently cheated death if not for a familiar face that she catches at the corner of her vision. She turns her head, holding him in her firelit gaze, hesitating. She is terrible at companionship, conversation, and all the other things that could make her even remotely pleasant to be around. But she remembers him and the way he had not been afraid of her fire, and her tired mind thinks that it might be nice to not have to worry for the safety of anyone right now.
“Fireheart,” she recalls his name once she is close enough, her body still burning bright even in the middle of the day, and even with the patches of fire missing. Somewhere beneath the flickering flames on her face she might have offered him a small smile. “It’s been awhile.”
Brinly
@Fireheart
basically after falling in the icy river/snow, her summer appearance is starting to disappear in patches, leaving behind pieces that look charred & glowing