01-27-2022, 06:02 PM
all of time and space, everywhere and anywhere, every star that ever was
For a year, all she had known was the cold.
He had found her, as if he knew she had finally put together what exactly he had placed in her chest. As if he knew what she had been planning. It had only taken seconds to rip her apart again, holding her still (in that almost intimate way she was becoming so familiar with) as he seized her bones and played with her. A puppet and her puppeteer. He scooped out what he had placed so haphazardly inside her the last time. The lightning, the darkness, the heart that had been so cleverly hidden.
Then, just to add insult to injury, he had placed her in a glacier not far from the Isle. And with a gleeful grin, disappeared. Left her there. A dark scarred wing mare, frozen in a wall of ice. For a year she watched with frozen eyes as she became forgotten. As the wild frenzied anger within her became the only source of heat against the unbearable biting cold that stabbed into every inch of her like a million sharp needles. Every night she watched the colors play across the sky and tried her best to reach out to the stars above. Even they couldn't help her now.
For a year she remained frozen, barely alive but unable to die. Unable to do anything except wait.
And wait.
And wait.
It started as a light dripping first, little tears sliding down the front of her icy prison. One day she thought she could feel the wind on the tip of her wing and thought that perhaps her insanity was finally taking over for good. A few weeks later, there was no mistaking the chilly breeze against her feathers. She cried for hours the day she was able to breathe again, her head freed from the ice, that first intake of cold air into her frozen lungs that almost made her choke and gag. Then finally… FINALLY… The glacier had melted enough for her to break free.
She is a weak and fragile thing that lands in the Meadow. It had taken several attempts just to get here, her wings had been her only chance to escape as they had been the first limbs she had been able to stretch and move while the rest of her had remained locked tight within the ice. It would have been easier to go to the Isle but the bitterness, remembering that nobody had looked for her, keeps her from going back. She would return, of that she is certain, but the last thing she wants is more ice and snow. If that had also been part of the Curse's plan, it had worked.
Instead she lands clumsily into warm grass and collapses, wings spread at awkward angles as she feels the heat of the ground pressed against her stomach. The sunlight on her back, the sting of vegetation as it rubs against her frostbit skin. It is too much and she releases a shuddering gasp as she simply breathes in and out and remembers what it feels like to be free. And then chokes on bitter tears as she also remembers that this was where she had once died. Where she had first met Gale. Where it had all started to begin with.
He had found her, as if he knew she had finally put together what exactly he had placed in her chest. As if he knew what she had been planning. It had only taken seconds to rip her apart again, holding her still (in that almost intimate way she was becoming so familiar with) as he seized her bones and played with her. A puppet and her puppeteer. He scooped out what he had placed so haphazardly inside her the last time. The lightning, the darkness, the heart that had been so cleverly hidden.
Then, just to add insult to injury, he had placed her in a glacier not far from the Isle. And with a gleeful grin, disappeared. Left her there. A dark scarred wing mare, frozen in a wall of ice. For a year she watched with frozen eyes as she became forgotten. As the wild frenzied anger within her became the only source of heat against the unbearable biting cold that stabbed into every inch of her like a million sharp needles. Every night she watched the colors play across the sky and tried her best to reach out to the stars above. Even they couldn't help her now.
For a year she remained frozen, barely alive but unable to die. Unable to do anything except wait.
And wait.
And wait.
It started as a light dripping first, little tears sliding down the front of her icy prison. One day she thought she could feel the wind on the tip of her wing and thought that perhaps her insanity was finally taking over for good. A few weeks later, there was no mistaking the chilly breeze against her feathers. She cried for hours the day she was able to breathe again, her head freed from the ice, that first intake of cold air into her frozen lungs that almost made her choke and gag. Then finally… FINALLY… The glacier had melted enough for her to break free.
She is a weak and fragile thing that lands in the Meadow. It had taken several attempts just to get here, her wings had been her only chance to escape as they had been the first limbs she had been able to stretch and move while the rest of her had remained locked tight within the ice. It would have been easier to go to the Isle but the bitterness, remembering that nobody had looked for her, keeps her from going back. She would return, of that she is certain, but the last thing she wants is more ice and snow. If that had also been part of the Curse's plan, it had worked.
Instead she lands clumsily into warm grass and collapses, wings spread at awkward angles as she feels the heat of the ground pressed against her stomach. The sunlight on her back, the sting of vegetation as it rubs against her frostbit skin. It is too much and she releases a shuddering gasp as she simply breathes in and out and remembers what it feels like to be free. And then chokes on bitter tears as she also remembers that this was where she had once died. Where she had first met Gale. Where it had all started to begin with.
-- Ciri