aim your arrow at the sky; any

[Wishbone]

haze like a fever

i fell like a dreamer for sweet tea and lemonade; it clings to my t-shirt it’s loud and it lingers, designed to suffocate. i light up to find what i’ve known all this time, there’s some beauty here yet

Wishbone lives out her life as though she were in a dream — not in the sense that she is light and floating, but in a way where her decisions are charged by a brash ignorance of death. A dreamer cannot truly die in their dreams for they will always wake up to the brisk chill of reality. While she knows about death (her fingers and legs twist with the shadowy being daily), she rarely acknowledges just how frequently she looks it in the eye and laughs in its face.

The smile that pulls at her lips is one laced with that deliberate ignorance. While greeting a recruit at the border might look good on her resume, Wishbone is more-so proud of the growth Nerine is experiencing. Tephra might always be her birth home, but this granite kingdom is quickly anchoring itself into the tender corners of her heart.

“I’m glad to hear that.” The mahogany girl turns aside, a clear invitation for the feathered mare to enter the kingdom. Although this is her first time welcoming a new Sister into the kingdom, Wishbone takes the task with ease. “Please, walk with me.” Her amber eyes glow with a wild warmth as she turns to walk deeper into the kingdom. Although the ocean rages just over the drop of the cliff, the wind is moderate today and Wishbone finds she doesn’t have to speak too loudly above the roar in her ears.

“How did you find out about Nerine and the Sisterhood?”

credit to eliza of adoxography.