when the light came through,
i know i've only felt religion when i've lied with you ;
______________________
She had been alone when it happened.
“It” was difficult to explain. The earth seemed to tremble and quake, but not in a way that seemed natural. It was like someone had pushed and manipulated the lands, spinning them, and unearthing old ones. It was strange, how quickly change spread across the land; like a disease, seeping into the earth, riding on the currents of air, a whisper on the breeze that tickled everyone’s ears. She remembers, then, the intruding image, of the red stallion with the seal on his chest, the voice in her head that implored her to kill him. She had shaken it away, confused, but Chryseis was not a killer.
As she was so prone to do, she had left Nerine. Not permanently, of course, for it was a refreshing change compared to Hyaline. She had her father, Breckin, and cousins and siblings (even if they weren’t her favorite). New shores and lands to explore, even if she would always hold a special place in her heart for the mountains of her birthplace; her secret valley, and the crystalline lake.
She walks the well-worn path to the River, and she cannot shake the eerie feeling that haunts her. The land seemed desolate, but she assumes it is the frigid cold of winter that has everyone huddled in their lands. She is undeterred, carving a path through the thin layer of snow that has begun to fall, her silver-blue form a stark contrast against the icy white. She has grown considerably, being just a few months shy of turning two. The baby-angles of her body have begun to fill and curve, softening in some areas and sharpening in others. Her face was still illuminated by the metallic gold-blaze, but the vibrancy in her dark brown eyes had begun to quiet some. She isn’t sure when her heart first began to crack, but it is something she harbors deep inside, refusing to the let the world see.
The sound of water rushing over rocks is a welcoming lullaby, the river following the curves and swells of the land, and she comes to stand at one of the shallow bends. She watches the current, remembering the first time she had come here and met her father; her previous summer spent trying to lure in a kelpie, unsuccessfully, and a multitude of other memories. A sigh brushes past her lips, escaping as a puff of warm vapor that snakes into the cold air, and she finds herself wondering what else was going to change.
chryseis.
and i'm still waking every morning but it's not with you
and i'm still waking every morning but it's not with you