[private] The Wounds of My Past || {Wound}

[wound]

S he’s spent a large majority of her life hidden away from the rest of the world. It had been a simple life for her, settled among the protective shoulders of her brothers, but it wasn’t the life she wanted. Wound’s childhood was spent lusting after the lives everyone else seemed to get (happy lovers, happy children, happy jobs) while she was stuck in the shadows among the decomposing leaves and cobwebbed corners. It wasn’t until she was well into adulthood that Wound broke free from the darkness of the forests of Beqanna. She’d pushed through stereotypes as well — the belief that someone deformed by history or genetics wasn’t suited for a life in the spotlight. Although her many defects (the undevelopment of her right foreleg, the itch and swell of her skin following sand contact, the near-endless bleeding of her cuts and scrapes) did hinder some pieces of her life, Wound’s spent most of her life learning to overcome those obstacles. And while she has found a secure and loving home in Tephra, part of her still does yearn for the serenity of the deep forest. Wound’s island home provides little of that same aesthetic (smoke and ash and brine isn’t the same as leaves and shadows and decomposition) and so sometimes she seeks out the uncharted territories of Beqanna to spend a day or so. After spending so many years among the rise and fall of the forest’s breathing, she can hear the homeostatic imbalances. His footsteps reach her silver-tinted ears despite the quiet of their beating. Wound is not frightened as she winds between thick trunks and deep undergrowth, though she is petite in size and not at all a fighting horse. Still, her lungs exhale a noise that shatters the otherwise normal rhythm of the forest. “I know you’re there.”

credit to nat of adoxography.

@[Hephaestus]