02-17-2025, 11:47 PM
The ocean gives Tiasa up reluctantly beneath a sliver of an autumn moon. Beqanna is dark and the vegetation on shore looks eerie. Uninviting? No, not exactly. It’s become an unknown for her but that doesn’t make her want to turn away. It draws her in - this world she was born into. Isolation gave her everything she wanted. She lived the life she had dreamed of, free of ties and free of others.
And then, like a chill creeping up the back of her spine, she realized it was not what she wanted anymore. She was lonely. Which was such an embarrassing thought she had put off doing anything about it for years.
But now she was here.
Discomfort settled in a thick coat, leaving an itchy residue that made walking onto shore a greater task than it should have ever been. Small puddles fill up the prints left behind her in the sand, black pools glittering with that thin silver light.
When sand gives way she stops. Not because she’s afraid (though she is) or because she doesn’t know how to deal with her discomfort (that’s what ignoring things is for).
She simply just does not know where to go.
Did she have a home here? She must have been born in one place or another, must have had somewhere she preferred to linger. But there is nothing, no memories swimming up to guide her. It’s not that she doesn’t remember anything of course - there are memories - there just isn’t anything significant. No emotional pull driving her one way or another. This place is a blank slate for her. Fitting, she supposes, since she is one too.
And then, like a chill creeping up the back of her spine, she realized it was not what she wanted anymore. She was lonely. Which was such an embarrassing thought she had put off doing anything about it for years.
But now she was here.
Discomfort settled in a thick coat, leaving an itchy residue that made walking onto shore a greater task than it should have ever been. Small puddles fill up the prints left behind her in the sand, black pools glittering with that thin silver light.
When sand gives way she stops. Not because she’s afraid (though she is) or because she doesn’t know how to deal with her discomfort (that’s what ignoring things is for).
She simply just does not know where to go.
Did she have a home here? She must have been born in one place or another, must have had somewhere she preferred to linger. But there is nothing, no memories swimming up to guide her. It’s not that she doesn’t remember anything of course - there are memories - there just isn’t anything significant. No emotional pull driving her one way or another. This place is a blank slate for her. Fitting, she supposes, since she is one too.
TIASA
Open to any!