03-20-2022, 03:12 PM
liesma—
It is the night in the middle of day that coaxes her out of the shadows she has tucked herself inside.
(She does not consider herself a curious thing, Liesma, because to be curious is to be inherently childlike and she has never known what it meant to be young. She had been a child once—and in many ways still is—but she is so much like her father.)
It draws her to it, the night, as it moves across the meadow. And perhaps there is some significant part of her that must know who is responsible for the darkness, because her sister has spent so long cloaked in darkness.
(And Liesma had been jealousy-stricken that Zohariel should be the night embodied, dripping with stars and darkness, but it had been short-lived, replaced instead by the kind of love she had not known possible. The kind of adoration that can only be felt for one’s sister.)
She wanders toward the heart of that darkness, eyes widening as she plunges straight into it, and finds her sister there at its center. And she might have smiled had she not taken after their father. Instead, her eyes soften and she draws in a long breath, savoring the cool rush of night.
“This gift of yours is the only thing that has ever made me sick with envy, sister,” she murmurs and turns her black gaze up to the sky.
(She does not consider herself a curious thing, Liesma, because to be curious is to be inherently childlike and she has never known what it meant to be young. She had been a child once—and in many ways still is—but she is so much like her father.)
It draws her to it, the night, as it moves across the meadow. And perhaps there is some significant part of her that must know who is responsible for the darkness, because her sister has spent so long cloaked in darkness.
(And Liesma had been jealousy-stricken that Zohariel should be the night embodied, dripping with stars and darkness, but it had been short-lived, replaced instead by the kind of love she had not known possible. The kind of adoration that can only be felt for one’s sister.)
She wanders toward the heart of that darkness, eyes widening as she plunges straight into it, and finds her sister there at its center. And she might have smiled had she not taken after their father. Instead, her eyes soften and she draws in a long breath, savoring the cool rush of night.
“This gift of yours is the only thing that has ever made me sick with envy, sister,” she murmurs and turns her black gaze up to the sky.
—staring at the sky
watching stars collide
@Zohariel