10-25-2021, 04:29 AM
este
She doesn’t sleep anymore, she is almost certain.
Because when she sleeps there are nightmares. When she sleeps she cannot control the way her imagination runs wild and tries to fill in the blanks of her mother’s death — intrusive images of her chest open and bleeding from her heart being torn out, of what the blood must have looked like smeared on her skin and pooled on the ground around her. Este has never been subjected to anything so graphic; she had been sick and weak and dying when her twin had been attacked, had missed so much of the violence that took place during the eclipse.
But violence and darkness are in her blood—are as much a part of her as light and good, they are all the things that twist together to make her the corrupted angel that she is.
It makes it easy for her mind to craft these kinds of things, and it unsettles her.
It unsettles her to the point she decides she would rather not sleep at all.
She is away from Hyaline tonight, slipping quietly along the river in her angel form, the rose-gold glow of aura softening the darkness around her. She moves without really seeing, without hearing the rush of the river, without feeling the way the breeze stirs her mane. But a blue-green glow catches her eye, shifts her focus to the present, and all at once she is grounded in reality.
She should walk away, she thinks, is certain that she is encroaching on someone trying to rest. But before she can stop herself she is following the questioning ‘hello’ that had reached for her in the dark, stepping softly until she finds him and the small animal near him. “I’m sorry,” she apologizes reflexively, her voice hushed in the evening air. “I didn’t mean to disturb you. I was just...” she trails off, her quiet brown eyes tired, before finishes aimlessly. “I don’t know, actually.”
Because when she sleeps there are nightmares. When she sleeps she cannot control the way her imagination runs wild and tries to fill in the blanks of her mother’s death — intrusive images of her chest open and bleeding from her heart being torn out, of what the blood must have looked like smeared on her skin and pooled on the ground around her. Este has never been subjected to anything so graphic; she had been sick and weak and dying when her twin had been attacked, had missed so much of the violence that took place during the eclipse.
But violence and darkness are in her blood—are as much a part of her as light and good, they are all the things that twist together to make her the corrupted angel that she is.
It makes it easy for her mind to craft these kinds of things, and it unsettles her.
It unsettles her to the point she decides she would rather not sleep at all.
She is away from Hyaline tonight, slipping quietly along the river in her angel form, the rose-gold glow of aura softening the darkness around her. She moves without really seeing, without hearing the rush of the river, without feeling the way the breeze stirs her mane. But a blue-green glow catches her eye, shifts her focus to the present, and all at once she is grounded in reality.
She should walk away, she thinks, is certain that she is encroaching on someone trying to rest. But before she can stop herself she is following the questioning ‘hello’ that had reached for her in the dark, stepping softly until she finds him and the small animal near him. “I’m sorry,” she apologizes reflexively, her voice hushed in the evening air. “I didn’t mean to disturb you. I was just...” she trails off, her quiet brown eyes tired, before finishes aimlessly. “I don’t know, actually.”
BUT WHO COULD STAY?
@Anubias