04-10-2021, 05:49 PM
it's a mystery to me
we have a greed with which we have agreed. you think you have to want more than you need; until you have it all you won't be free. and when you think more than you want, your thoughts begin to bleed.
It takes Wishbone a moment to think about her answer to Savior’s question. Her decision to remain in Tephra had been a quick one, and she isn’t entirely sure why she made it. At first, she had come to find Svedka — to tell him about the past few years of her life and to hear about the past years of his. Then she had stayed longer to meet Warden, and he had encouraged her to stay. So she had. Deep inside, Wishbone might admit that she hasn’t put herself back in Nerine because of the changes, because of her failure as Khalessi, because of her absence in society.
Eventually, she settles by saying, “Warden did ask me to stay, but I missed being here.” Her amber eyes find the stream, watching the current slowly tug the water away from them. The vibrant colors of the lantern-bird reflect in the stream. It reminds Wishbone of the sun rising over the ocean, and her heart twists. “I know I would have come here once the darkness came if I wasn’t here already,” she admits.
Savior’s explanation of his allegiances brings a smile to her purple face. Initially, because he confirms her assumptions about Tephra (they are a safe and protected kingdom) and secondly because she had been right in her judgment. A stranger in these lands would not seem as relaxed as Savior appears to be. “A protector, huh? What magic ties you to Tephra?”
His question makes her pause again. Her feet have taken her many places, and Wishbone has only just begun to unravel the stories. She has spent years with the adventures tucked close to her heart… In fact, no one knew about her death until Svedka, and that retelling happened six years after her return to Life. Wishbone has always shared freely, but at this moment, she suddenly recognizes the fact that she doesn’t have many friends.
Her closest ones have either died or killed.
“I used to lead Nerine,” she begins, “but I was young, and the crown didn’t fit right. So I left and explored beyond Beqanna for a while. Eventually, I stayed in Ischia with someone who gave me two daughters and then drowned me in the ocean.” Wishbone’s throat used to tighten up when she thought about that day — the saltwater crowding her lungs, filling her up and pulling her down all at once — but now she is confident. Her death is a part of her stories, another lesson learned. “I died, and after six years, I made it back to life. It took me a while to process what happened, but after another six years, I came back here.”
Eventually, she settles by saying, “Warden did ask me to stay, but I missed being here.” Her amber eyes find the stream, watching the current slowly tug the water away from them. The vibrant colors of the lantern-bird reflect in the stream. It reminds Wishbone of the sun rising over the ocean, and her heart twists. “I know I would have come here once the darkness came if I wasn’t here already,” she admits.
Savior’s explanation of his allegiances brings a smile to her purple face. Initially, because he confirms her assumptions about Tephra (they are a safe and protected kingdom) and secondly because she had been right in her judgment. A stranger in these lands would not seem as relaxed as Savior appears to be. “A protector, huh? What magic ties you to Tephra?”
His question makes her pause again. Her feet have taken her many places, and Wishbone has only just begun to unravel the stories. She has spent years with the adventures tucked close to her heart… In fact, no one knew about her death until Svedka, and that retelling happened six years after her return to Life. Wishbone has always shared freely, but at this moment, she suddenly recognizes the fact that she doesn’t have many friends.
Her closest ones have either died or killed.
“I used to lead Nerine,” she begins, “but I was young, and the crown didn’t fit right. So I left and explored beyond Beqanna for a while. Eventually, I stayed in Ischia with someone who gave me two daughters and then drowned me in the ocean.” Wishbone’s throat used to tighten up when she thought about that day — the saltwater crowding her lungs, filling her up and pulling her down all at once — but now she is confident. Her death is a part of her stories, another lesson learned. “I died, and after six years, I made it back to life. It took me a while to process what happened, but after another six years, I came back here.”
@[savior]