11-04-2019, 05:52 PM
I was in the darkness, so darkness I became;
She has been, and was supposed to stay, dead.
While death had not been welcomed, exactly (certainly not in the way it had come about, violent and brutal, blood soaking the sands of her home), it had been deserved. For a woman who had parceled out violence, a violent end had been fitting. Never mind that she had not been violent, in the end, that she had lived and loved and pretended she had never been wicked, that madness did not rot inside her. History always catches up.
For a woman who had killed her own mother, death by her son’s hands had been fitting, too.
She had not been a ghost, either. She had walked into the darkness and then she had ceased to exist. She haunted no one. She watched no one. The world moved on and she was nothing.
So when her eyes snap open, she is confused, and then she is furious.
She does not know that decades have passed since her murder. She is brought back to that moment, and she looks around, wildly, expecting to see his hooves crashing down. But there is nothing. Quiet, all around.
She exhales - her first breath in years - and begins to actually take in her surroundings. She is no longer in the deserts, but instead in a forest, entirely unfamiliar. Her heart speeds up and her breath tightens, feeling claustrophobic amongst the foliage and shadow. Such fecundity reminds her of other kingdoms, she had long since forgone them in favor of the desiccation of the deserts, all burning sun and shifting sands. There are pathways before her, but she does not know where any of them lead, she is entirely lost here, confused as to how she came about at all.
She inhales again, trying to steady herself, to make sense of what has happened. Of why she is here. The last thing she remembers is Garbage before her, the orange eyes rolling on the sand, hooves crashing, and light, light all around, surrounding her, drowning out the cries of is this enough?
What happened?
Why is she here?
That she died does not occur to her, especially since she is unscathed, now, unbroken. Perhaps Garbage’s appearance had been a dream, guilt manifesting, and she was waking now. Yes, she decides, settling herself, that must be it. And she must have sleepwalked, too - surprisingly far, as this land feels unknown to her. The mind can do crazy things sometimes. She, of all people, should know this.
She follows a path, and it spills out to a riverbank. The river, like everything else, is forgein to her. The water charges along, so different from the oasis she knows so well, and the sound of it makes her eyes twitch. Something is wrong - she knows this - but she doesn’t know what. Only that the air is different.
She is alone, at the river, but just because she cannot see anyone doesn’t mean they aren’t there. She reaches out with her mind, casts a wide net, and sends her signal, hoping someone will hear and be able to turn her back to her home.
I am Craft, queen of Dewdrop Deserts, and I seem to have lost my way.
Craft