Ea
03-06-2023, 11:01 PM
She should’ve known better than to trust the fairies. And yet, she plunged ahead without thought, deposited into chaos.
As soon as her feet touch the ground, she’s met with a flash of lightning and a deafening crack of thunder and watches as a scaled, finned creature falls beneath the strike. Nearby, a dark red mare with glowing spikes and horns pins a struggling winged stallion to the ground and Ea watches, wide-eyed and entranced, as the mare stares into his eyes, her glow brightening, before the stallion goes limp and she retreats, off to find another victim. There are hundreds of them, maybe, their rage and fury palpable as they collide and fall. Too late, she notices another running straight towards her — whether chasing or being chased, she isn’t sure — and Ea holds her breath, bracing for an impact that never comes.
A ghost, again. Of course.
The sprites’ voices bring her back, allowing an exhale. It’s only then she notices the other bodies — ghosts — standing with her, not a part of the violence. She eyes them, quickly, sizing them up as the sprites speak: a wound must be found, must be healed. And they must work together to do so. It had been a lifetime since she’d last worked side by side with anyone, though she still remembers them all: Tiphon, Phaedrus, Ashley, Talulah, Vida, Adalyn. The foundation of their island. It’s just another scar added to the hundreds that mark her body, now.
She listens as several of them speak — could it be some alien influence? the meaning of the Ruins’ stones? ambitious royals or their advisors? — and none of the thoughts intrigue her until a solemn, dark purple stallion speaks. Was there ever a time they loved one another? A gold and black dragon and a quiet, bejeweled black and mare add their thoughts: a split in family, an accident. Any of them could be right.
“The deepest hatred always stems from love, doesn’t it?” She muses aloud, though mostly to herself. “What if —”
Her thought is cut off by a stirring of the sprites and then the scenery around them changes; they are all flashed through scenes — memories, perhaps, though whose she isn’t sure.
The first scene: groups of four or five stand opposite each other on a rocky beach. Ea can tell two of them are yelling back and forth, though there is no sound. Some of them beaked and birdlike, the others finned and tentacled. Children are tucked behind mothers. The first scuffle, she thinks. The wind picks up suddenly, shooting a wave over the groups and they are transported once again.
The second scene: a rocky field stretched out before them with several large rock structures stacked high, some fused into an archway. Ea can smell the ocean, a short distance away. Two figures emerge from the sea, their tails shifting into legs, and as they walk towards the rocks, a winged figure appears from the clouds, landing before them. Ea prepares for an altercation, but instead, they share laughs (though, of course, they are silent to Ea’s ears). Peace. The Ruins were a meeting place of sorts, before the bloodshed.
Before they’re transported to another scene, Ea calls to the rest of the group, hoping they can hear her, at least: “Could it be so simple as a small disagreement? Over what? What misunderstanding could possibly lead to not only the destruction of their lands, but ours?”
As soon as her feet touch the ground, she’s met with a flash of lightning and a deafening crack of thunder and watches as a scaled, finned creature falls beneath the strike. Nearby, a dark red mare with glowing spikes and horns pins a struggling winged stallion to the ground and Ea watches, wide-eyed and entranced, as the mare stares into his eyes, her glow brightening, before the stallion goes limp and she retreats, off to find another victim. There are hundreds of them, maybe, their rage and fury palpable as they collide and fall. Too late, she notices another running straight towards her — whether chasing or being chased, she isn’t sure — and Ea holds her breath, bracing for an impact that never comes.
A ghost, again. Of course.
The sprites’ voices bring her back, allowing an exhale. It’s only then she notices the other bodies — ghosts — standing with her, not a part of the violence. She eyes them, quickly, sizing them up as the sprites speak: a wound must be found, must be healed. And they must work together to do so. It had been a lifetime since she’d last worked side by side with anyone, though she still remembers them all: Tiphon, Phaedrus, Ashley, Talulah, Vida, Adalyn. The foundation of their island. It’s just another scar added to the hundreds that mark her body, now.
She listens as several of them speak — could it be some alien influence? the meaning of the Ruins’ stones? ambitious royals or their advisors? — and none of the thoughts intrigue her until a solemn, dark purple stallion speaks. Was there ever a time they loved one another? A gold and black dragon and a quiet, bejeweled black and mare add their thoughts: a split in family, an accident. Any of them could be right.
“The deepest hatred always stems from love, doesn’t it?” She muses aloud, though mostly to herself. “What if —”
Her thought is cut off by a stirring of the sprites and then the scenery around them changes; they are all flashed through scenes — memories, perhaps, though whose she isn’t sure.
The first scene: groups of four or five stand opposite each other on a rocky beach. Ea can tell two of them are yelling back and forth, though there is no sound. Some of them beaked and birdlike, the others finned and tentacled. Children are tucked behind mothers. The first scuffle, she thinks. The wind picks up suddenly, shooting a wave over the groups and they are transported once again.
The second scene: a rocky field stretched out before them with several large rock structures stacked high, some fused into an archway. Ea can smell the ocean, a short distance away. Two figures emerge from the sea, their tails shifting into legs, and as they walk towards the rocks, a winged figure appears from the clouds, landing before them. Ea prepares for an altercation, but instead, they share laughs (though, of course, they are silent to Ea’s ears). Peace. The Ruins were a meeting place of sorts, before the bloodshed.
Before they’re transported to another scene, Ea calls to the rest of the group, hoping they can hear her, at least: “Could it be so simple as a small disagreement? Over what? What misunderstanding could possibly lead to not only the destruction of their lands, but ours?”
you get dragged down, down to the same spot enough times in a row
the bottom begins to feel like the only safe place that you know