elodie
My mother loved the dark.
This was the last thing her mother ever said to her.
Elodie had not seen her mother since. Lilian had looked strangely at the sky, smiled something funny and then let the dark swallow her whole. Elodie had searched for her but she was gone, as if she had never been there at all.
And that was months ago now.
And Elodie tells herself again that she has no reason to be afraid.
Because Lilian’s mother had loved the dark, which means that Elodie should love the dark, too. Even if it had frightened her own mother. Even if Lilian had often thrown herself headlong at the things that frightened her the most, this darkness included. And now she has gone someplace Elodie cannot reach her.
But she would not want Elodie to panic, would she?
It does not matter that Elodie’s heart is a bird trapped in a cage, beating its tired wings relentlessly against her ribs. It does not matter that it has been months since her mother stepped into the shadows and did not emerge again. Nor does it matter that she is plenty old enough to be on her own. She had enjoyed her mother’s company and she does not know what it means that someone can be there one moment and simply be gone the next. It is this that troubles her the most.
Her stomach rolls with hunger and she nudges the wilted meadow-grass underfoot. It is hopeless. It has been hopeless. A tremor steals down the length of her spine and she lifts her head as her horns shift involuntarily, from kudu to elk and back again. A defect brought on by this impenetrable darkness. It had made her mother laugh occasionally, though Elodie had not found any particular humor in it. There is the faintest apparition of a smile that steals across her face now, spurred into motion more by the memory of her mother’s laughter than anything else.
She exhales and the smile disappears, gone just as quickly as it came as she peers into the shadows, as if she expects her mother will appear just as mysteriously as she disappeared.
This was the last thing her mother ever said to her.
Elodie had not seen her mother since. Lilian had looked strangely at the sky, smiled something funny and then let the dark swallow her whole. Elodie had searched for her but she was gone, as if she had never been there at all.
And that was months ago now.
And Elodie tells herself again that she has no reason to be afraid.
Because Lilian’s mother had loved the dark, which means that Elodie should love the dark, too. Even if it had frightened her own mother. Even if Lilian had often thrown herself headlong at the things that frightened her the most, this darkness included. And now she has gone someplace Elodie cannot reach her.
But she would not want Elodie to panic, would she?
It does not matter that Elodie’s heart is a bird trapped in a cage, beating its tired wings relentlessly against her ribs. It does not matter that it has been months since her mother stepped into the shadows and did not emerge again. Nor does it matter that she is plenty old enough to be on her own. She had enjoyed her mother’s company and she does not know what it means that someone can be there one moment and simply be gone the next. It is this that troubles her the most.
Her stomach rolls with hunger and she nudges the wilted meadow-grass underfoot. It is hopeless. It has been hopeless. A tremor steals down the length of her spine and she lifts her head as her horns shift involuntarily, from kudu to elk and back again. A defect brought on by this impenetrable darkness. It had made her mother laugh occasionally, though Elodie had not found any particular humor in it. There is the faintest apparition of a smile that steals across her face now, spurred into motion more by the memory of her mother’s laughter than anything else.
She exhales and the smile disappears, gone just as quickly as it came as she peers into the shadows, as if she expects her mother will appear just as mysteriously as she disappeared.
I’ll let my hunger take me there
@[The Monsters] please mess with her immortality and shapeshifting antlers!!