little firefly; kristin pony.

[Provoke]

provoke

    
 
 The trees here were sad. OH so very sad.  
 
They were alive, that was true enough, but she had seen this place in her dreams--when her body leaves her...or when she leaves her body, she is not quite sure how it works yet. The memories these trees carried, the images they saw, were ones of pure torture and sadness. The trees almost seemed to whisper, and in this weird parallel universe she found herself traversing in, she could hear them cry.  
 
Images of wolves—and of lava. A man with fire in his eyes, God among mortals. She knew, somehow, that this creature was her father. Mother had never spoken of him. Only that she had known him before. But he—the creature—had brought this land to its knees, and for whatever reason, the sheer amount of sadness here was one that would last as long as these trees remained standing.  
 
The colors run together, and Provoke's quiet eyes flashed as she viewed multiple realities all at the same time. She walked, as if in a trance, transfixed and hyptotized by the bleeding of creatures that existed in one, but not the other, were alive today, and dead yesterday. The Taiga was full of negative energy, and it played havok with Provoke's sense of self. It was a drug high.  
 
It was frightening.  
  

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