[open] we wrote our own story; any

[Kensa]

KENSA

we were golden. we were fire. we were magic.

Once upon a winter meadow.
She was last here about a year past and met a stranger she never saw again. The world has changed and she has allowed it to leave her behind watching it go on swiftly with distant and hardly focused eyes. Kensa has been turned inward for so long that today when she steps out of the trees and into the bright snow strewn day she doesn’t recognize where she is for a moment. Once familiar trees have grown tall and thick, the deer trails through the snow and tangle have shifted just enough to look foreign. 


Kensa stands just beyond the break in the trees and blinks at the painful whiteness for a few seconds and for the very first time sees beauty in the winter time, in the cold death. She has hated the common lands during the frigid months since the very first day she’d arrived. Now she remembers, and sees beginnings, a winter womb awaiting the quickening of spring.


It would be unfair to say that this is the moment in which she is healed, freed, and cleansed of what has transpired but this is perhaps the first time she can just exist in a moment and enjoy it. Once she might have lunged out into the smooth expanse of whiteness before herself and churned snow and mud up into a beautiful mess. Instead she drifts absently out into the meadow leaving a single narrow track in her wake, disturbing as little as possible. She might look angelic moving gracefully through the snow like this, but nothing as beautiful as Kensa could ever be such a cliche of purity. 

((Hi open mess because I need to write again and that means making something happen with my favorite girl))
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