09-15-2016, 06:03 PM
The night is anything but quiet and she finds it is impossible to rest, impossible to keep her eyes closed for the nightmares that form there when she tries. The world still settles, heaving and shifting and groaning, the aches of being undone and remade again, she is certain. At the least the meadow is still, and the forests around it, because she is tired from climbing down the mountain, bruised and sore and her heart hurts with the loneliness of feeling lost. If it changed again, if the world took another new shape, she might let it swallow her now.
She shifts beneath the trees, trying to find a spot where the branches are more slender, where the leaves do not knit together like fingers to keep the sky from her. Right now the endless blue of the world above her, the fat moon and the flecking of silver stars in wild constellations, are the only things left that feel even a little same, even a little safe. She is used to hours and nights tucked into the mountains, used to sleeping among the stars. Being buried so deep against the earth, hidden beneath the trees and in the shadow of the mountain makes her uneasy and she can feel knots tying and untying themselves in the pit of her belly.
The groan of branches being pushed aside, the crunch of cold ground being crushed underfoot pulls her face towards the dark, and she waits tensely for a shape to solidify in the black. She imagines a thousand terrible things, an endless parade of creatures who would mean only to do her harm. She remembers first the story of the wolves, of how their teeth and claws had pulled apart her family as the journeyed back from the Chamber – she had been born later that day. But she thinks, too, of impossible things, of creatures long since buried beneath the earth but set free when the world exploded and fissure raced like spider webs through all that was.
She inches back a step or two, uneasy and broken, quiet despite the way her heart hammered in her chest - and she would’ve run if not for the voice that found her in the dark.
Australis?
She gasps and it is a whispered sound, mangled only by the way her chest tightens around her lungs. Her mind races to place the bodiless voice, but her heart beats her to it. “Tobiah?” The word sounds small, even to her, and so she says it again, just a little louder this time. “Tobiah?” But he is already peeling away from the shadow, already bathed in the same silver starlight as she. Without thinking, she pushes forward and collides against him, burying herself in the comfort of his pale side, beneath the soft of his white feathered wings. “Tobiah.” She says for a third time, closing her eyes and pushing her cheek against the strong curve of his neck where she remains until the trembling beneath her skin starts to ease. For a long moment she can think of nothing more than the way her hurt seems to fade buried so selfishly against his skin, the way even the knots loosen in the lonely pit of her stomach.
But she realizes he must hate this forced closeness, wonders why he has even come to the forest at all for the way it teams with endless, disoriented faces, and so she peels herself away from his warmth, pausing only to touch her nose to the curve of his ancient face. She does not drift far, staying close enough to feel the warmth drifting from his skin, close enough to touch him because she is sad and she is greedy. His question makes her laugh though, not the kind of laughter she had shared with him on the mountain, but something darker, something more twisted and strange on her lips. “Am I okay?” She pauses and she is silent, her brow furrowed as she turns from him to look at the details of the world around them. She counts the nearest trees, traces their branches and memorizes the shades of their leaves, and when she finally turns back to him she is careful to hide her brokenness from him. “Home is gone,” he will have noticed this too, their home had been one in the same, “I haven’t found anyone I love.” Her voice catches and her eyes drop, darkening like bruises against the dapples of her brown face. “I don’t know Tobiah, I don’t know how to be okay.”
Her voice shatters quietly, coming apart at the seams, and she reaches for him blindly, desperate for the way he reminds her of home, of safe. Greedy for the warmth he stirs in her chest. “I’m glad you’re here, Tobiah, I’m glad nothing happened to you.” She inches close enough to touch his chest, to press her nose to the place where his heart beat just below. “I thought I’d never see you again.”
She shifts beneath the trees, trying to find a spot where the branches are more slender, where the leaves do not knit together like fingers to keep the sky from her. Right now the endless blue of the world above her, the fat moon and the flecking of silver stars in wild constellations, are the only things left that feel even a little same, even a little safe. She is used to hours and nights tucked into the mountains, used to sleeping among the stars. Being buried so deep against the earth, hidden beneath the trees and in the shadow of the mountain makes her uneasy and she can feel knots tying and untying themselves in the pit of her belly.
The groan of branches being pushed aside, the crunch of cold ground being crushed underfoot pulls her face towards the dark, and she waits tensely for a shape to solidify in the black. She imagines a thousand terrible things, an endless parade of creatures who would mean only to do her harm. She remembers first the story of the wolves, of how their teeth and claws had pulled apart her family as the journeyed back from the Chamber – she had been born later that day. But she thinks, too, of impossible things, of creatures long since buried beneath the earth but set free when the world exploded and fissure raced like spider webs through all that was.
She inches back a step or two, uneasy and broken, quiet despite the way her heart hammered in her chest - and she would’ve run if not for the voice that found her in the dark.
Australis?
She gasps and it is a whispered sound, mangled only by the way her chest tightens around her lungs. Her mind races to place the bodiless voice, but her heart beats her to it. “Tobiah?” The word sounds small, even to her, and so she says it again, just a little louder this time. “Tobiah?” But he is already peeling away from the shadow, already bathed in the same silver starlight as she. Without thinking, she pushes forward and collides against him, burying herself in the comfort of his pale side, beneath the soft of his white feathered wings. “Tobiah.” She says for a third time, closing her eyes and pushing her cheek against the strong curve of his neck where she remains until the trembling beneath her skin starts to ease. For a long moment she can think of nothing more than the way her hurt seems to fade buried so selfishly against his skin, the way even the knots loosen in the lonely pit of her stomach.
But she realizes he must hate this forced closeness, wonders why he has even come to the forest at all for the way it teams with endless, disoriented faces, and so she peels herself away from his warmth, pausing only to touch her nose to the curve of his ancient face. She does not drift far, staying close enough to feel the warmth drifting from his skin, close enough to touch him because she is sad and she is greedy. His question makes her laugh though, not the kind of laughter she had shared with him on the mountain, but something darker, something more twisted and strange on her lips. “Am I okay?” She pauses and she is silent, her brow furrowed as she turns from him to look at the details of the world around them. She counts the nearest trees, traces their branches and memorizes the shades of their leaves, and when she finally turns back to him she is careful to hide her brokenness from him. “Home is gone,” he will have noticed this too, their home had been one in the same, “I haven’t found anyone I love.” Her voice catches and her eyes drop, darkening like bruises against the dapples of her brown face. “I don’t know Tobiah, I don’t know how to be okay.”
Her voice shatters quietly, coming apart at the seams, and she reaches for him blindly, desperate for the way he reminds her of home, of safe. Greedy for the warmth he stirs in her chest. “I’m glad you’re here, Tobiah, I’m glad nothing happened to you.” She inches close enough to touch his chest, to press her nose to the place where his heart beat just below. “I thought I’d never see you again.”