12-20-2020, 04:41 PM
take my soul & make it undone
be the one, be the one to take me home and show me the sun. i know, i know you can bring the fire, i can bring the bones. i know, i know you'll make the fire, my bones will make it grow.
She has spent a decent amount of her life wandering. The weight of a crown had felt too heavy on her young head; the simplicity of a broodmare’s life was too boring. Tephra had drawn her close in her youth — giving her trails and tides and hills to explore recklessly. Nerine had pulled at the wilderness in her heart — the way the ground disappears into nothingness, the violence of the northern ocean. Ischia had provided a home for her daughters — endless sunny days and enough beaches to practice swimming every afternoon.
All of these homes and the places she had visited Beyond have appealed to her in some fashion, yet they have all rubbed wrongly enough to encourage her elsewhere.
Although the biome is unfamiliar to Beqanna, Wishbone recalls the bayous and crocodiles of worlds Beyond. A faint smile dances across her gold mouth at the memory of the swampland. “We don’t have any bayous here, so you’re in luck if that is why you left.” She doesn’t press the reasons why he might have left his birthplace; if he wanted to explain himself, he would. In all the time Wishbone spent in the Afterlife, pacing the threshold between Death and Life, she had learned that some things are better left in the places of silence.
“I was born in Tephra. It’s a kingdom here in Beqanna.” Her characteristic amber eyes peer into Grimjaw’s red ones, observing how they are set into his dark face like twin flames. “Its most notable feature is a volcano, but you can’t see it from where we are.” Wishbone takes a moment to answer his next question, mainly because her response has a chance of turning into a story that will last until dawn. “I have a restless spirit.” It is the shortest version she can settle on, but something in the way Grimjaw had searched the darkness leads her to guess he is looking for a distraction.
“I’ve lived in many places but at the moment I’m a wanderer, like you. I was dead, and now I’m not.” Again, a simple explanation for a much longer story. A twinkle of mischief shimmers in her gaze. “And I look completely different than in my first life.” Onyx where she should be mahogany; long where she should be compact; elegant where she should be slender.
All of these homes and the places she had visited Beyond have appealed to her in some fashion, yet they have all rubbed wrongly enough to encourage her elsewhere.
Although the biome is unfamiliar to Beqanna, Wishbone recalls the bayous and crocodiles of worlds Beyond. A faint smile dances across her gold mouth at the memory of the swampland. “We don’t have any bayous here, so you’re in luck if that is why you left.” She doesn’t press the reasons why he might have left his birthplace; if he wanted to explain himself, he would. In all the time Wishbone spent in the Afterlife, pacing the threshold between Death and Life, she had learned that some things are better left in the places of silence.
“I was born in Tephra. It’s a kingdom here in Beqanna.” Her characteristic amber eyes peer into Grimjaw’s red ones, observing how they are set into his dark face like twin flames. “Its most notable feature is a volcano, but you can’t see it from where we are.” Wishbone takes a moment to answer his next question, mainly because her response has a chance of turning into a story that will last until dawn. “I have a restless spirit.” It is the shortest version she can settle on, but something in the way Grimjaw had searched the darkness leads her to guess he is looking for a distraction.
“I’ve lived in many places but at the moment I’m a wanderer, like you. I was dead, and now I’m not.” Again, a simple explanation for a much longer story. A twinkle of mischief shimmers in her gaze. “And I look completely different than in my first life.” Onyx where she should be mahogany; long where she should be compact; elegant where she should be slender.
@[grimjaw]