03-10-2022, 01:42 AM
Ethenia
it was an honest mistake
Once, she had thought magic was to be created. The kind of magic that could be found in moments: a sunrise, a touch. The lonelier she became, the more she had to create in order to survive. Eventually, she wasn’t lonely at all anymore. Until, of course, she remembered. Remembered what it was like to be seen by more than her own reflection. Remembered what it was like to want something.
Remembering will be the death of her, she thinks. She had found peace, of a sort.
It was not enough.
Ethenia watches the shifting of feathers, repressing the child-like desire to reach out and touch them. As the stallions wings rise higher, she shrinks backward, lost in the cast of his dark shadow (an omen, perhaps). Her brow furrows with confusion and she shakes her head in dismay. Scrambling to put the pieces together, she reverses until she presses into a tree, unable to retreat further. Not entirely out of his orbit, her head lowers meekly (uncharacteristically). Ethenia notes the ice in his eyes, the chill of his angered voice.
In spite of this, she manages to draw a slow breath, to still the heart that beats like a bird against its cage.
“I’m sorry…” she wonders if this is the cost of her curiosity.
“Please, are there others like you?” What could he be, if not an angel? She trembles briefly, choosing to stifle that curiosity. “What else is out here, in this forest?” Naïve, if not brash, she is trapped in a chrysalis of her own oblivion. By now, she has learned to stop believing in fairytales. She has not yet learned to believe in monsters.
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@Ashhal