.
What a wonder, to wake up in this world.
Of course, the wonder takes place at a time that Lillia cannot quite place -- before the end? After? She feels the softness of grass beneath her hooves and understands that much at least, that she stands here and not there. Materialized applies in every sense of the word in her case, she believes, as she considers the unbodied nature of the place from whence she came. Even now that sense of utter vulnerability with the transparency of the universe's energy flits from her finger tips, racing away back into the void, to later be welcomed as the one and only true friend available to the dead.
And the living, Lillia figures to herself, smiling as the final shreds of eternity shed themselves from her porcelain skin. For now, to live.
Rustling. A turn of her head reveals downy wings at her sides, just brushing her equine form. The newness of the body she landed this time around lends itself to a myriad of wobbling steps on pinstick legs and Lillia laughs to herself, breathless; a new, old body. Familiar in its undiscovered possibility. Eyes yet trained to herself, the little horse (she who stands at but eleven hands tall) gives a hop and a spread of her wings and finds that, despite remaining grounded on this attempt, she will know how to fly on her "first" try.
God knows she has soared since the dawn of creation.
Still, reinvigorated by her baptism into this life, Lillia tosses her behaloed head and gallops across the meadow, the pink of her nostrils flaring wide to capture every breath she can.
At a rock half her size near the edge of the meadow she stops, watches the hours pass by in an unworried blink, and closes her eyes in gratitude.
Of course, the wonder takes place at a time that Lillia cannot quite place -- before the end? After? She feels the softness of grass beneath her hooves and understands that much at least, that she stands here and not there. Materialized applies in every sense of the word in her case, she believes, as she considers the unbodied nature of the place from whence she came. Even now that sense of utter vulnerability with the transparency of the universe's energy flits from her finger tips, racing away back into the void, to later be welcomed as the one and only true friend available to the dead.
And the living, Lillia figures to herself, smiling as the final shreds of eternity shed themselves from her porcelain skin. For now, to live.
Rustling. A turn of her head reveals downy wings at her sides, just brushing her equine form. The newness of the body she landed this time around lends itself to a myriad of wobbling steps on pinstick legs and Lillia laughs to herself, breathless; a new, old body. Familiar in its undiscovered possibility. Eyes yet trained to herself, the little horse (she who stands at but eleven hands tall) gives a hop and a spread of her wings and finds that, despite remaining grounded on this attempt, she will know how to fly on her "first" try.
God knows she has soared since the dawn of creation.
Still, reinvigorated by her baptism into this life, Lillia tosses her behaloed head and gallops across the meadow, the pink of her nostrils flaring wide to capture every breath she can.
At a rock half her size near the edge of the meadow she stops, watches the hours pass by in an unworried blink, and closes her eyes in gratitude.
Lillia
pls come meet <3