08-17-2018, 11:13 AM
Polaris
She is as quiet as a broken thing can be, though the fissures and cracks through her body protest with soft groans and creaks when she moves. It would be so much easier to be still, to pick a place and hide away in the deep shadows beneath the trees, but she is restless, discontent. It’s been so long since she had seen any sign of her family, any sign of the sable-skinned man who had appointed himself her guardian - who she had clung to so readily in return. A father, a protector, a friend. Her whole world. Missing now. Missing for so long despite how diligently she continues to comb the forests.
It is why she is here now, picking her way from one shadow to the next, knowing the dark will cloak the strange appeal of her glittering figure. Smooth, even glass in reflective teal - darker in the cracked places beneath the surface, like a network of crooked veins beneath false skin. Maybe it should make her feel better, to have veins. An imitation of normalcy, sameness, when she is so clearly odd. But the cracks scare her, feel like staring down at wide fissures knowing they will one day undo her.
She doesn’t want to be undone.
The day must be quiet - or she must be louder than she realizes, the creak of not-bones and crooked skin, pocked glass not meant for a world like this, because she is stopped by a sound - a voice, and it feels almost as startling as a slap across the face. She had thought she was alone here. Yes? She shrinks back out of habit, instantly worried and wary and slipping back into the embrace of cool shadows, shadows that steal the glitter from her glass. He’s just there though, through the trees and just ahead. Tall and stoic and almost reminding her of someone else. That someone had been softer though, she thinks.
He’s staring into the trees towards her, and she wonders if he can see that glint of teal reflecting from the shadows. Shining and pocked with constellations of brokenness, out of place among that flatter browns and greens. Always out of place. She is frozen though, a delicate glass sculpture, those faded amber eyes wide and unblinking. There is no effort made to move closer - certainly no attempt to run, she is not a creature made for such things. Nor does she offer a answer to his question, not even a sound of acknowledgement. She is only silent, reaching for invisible.
It is why she is here now, picking her way from one shadow to the next, knowing the dark will cloak the strange appeal of her glittering figure. Smooth, even glass in reflective teal - darker in the cracked places beneath the surface, like a network of crooked veins beneath false skin. Maybe it should make her feel better, to have veins. An imitation of normalcy, sameness, when she is so clearly odd. But the cracks scare her, feel like staring down at wide fissures knowing they will one day undo her.
She doesn’t want to be undone.
The day must be quiet - or she must be louder than she realizes, the creak of not-bones and crooked skin, pocked glass not meant for a world like this, because she is stopped by a sound - a voice, and it feels almost as startling as a slap across the face. She had thought she was alone here. Yes? She shrinks back out of habit, instantly worried and wary and slipping back into the embrace of cool shadows, shadows that steal the glitter from her glass. He’s just there though, through the trees and just ahead. Tall and stoic and almost reminding her of someone else. That someone had been softer though, she thinks.
He’s staring into the trees towards her, and she wonders if he can see that glint of teal reflecting from the shadows. Shining and pocked with constellations of brokenness, out of place among that flatter browns and greens. Always out of place. She is frozen though, a delicate glass sculpture, those faded amber eyes wide and unblinking. There is no effort made to move closer - certainly no attempt to run, she is not a creature made for such things. Nor does she offer a answer to his question, not even a sound of acknowledgement. She is only silent, reaching for invisible.
though i never needed any proof to trust the heart that beats inside of you