Even though autumn does not quite make the Tephran landscape brittle with frost and crisp air, Olena awakes from her midday nap with a chill down her spine. The young girl lifts her head gently, allowing the soft tremor to stretch throughout her slight body without a complaint. She inhales deeply, finding that same familiar wheeze accompanying it, and coughs mildly. Her dark legs have been curled beneath her tightly, pressed firmly against the ivory of her belly, and already she begins to mentally prepare herself for the movement and strength it would take to stand.
With a quick toss of her head, she notices that she is quite alone. However, she knows that is not always necessarily the case: Oberyn is merely around the corner, splashing in the tide, and her mothers are just down the hill, grazing and basking beneath the cooler autumn sun, enjoying the fresh air that blows the tri-color of Olena’s forelock away from the rich gold of her face.
She wiggles her hips, preparing herself, and slowly - thoughtfully - brings herself to her knees, and then to stand. She winces as her muscles stretch and burn with exertion, stumbling slightly before coming to balance. Olena snorts softly with a tiny tip of her chin, taking precise and slow steps so that she could make her way out of the shadow of the rich jungle and into the sun, so that the cold inside her bones could warm and ache less.
The young girl doesn’t understand why her knees tremble or her head always feels so heavy, or why her brother doesn’t need as much sleep as her. She tries not to wonder why Oberyn’s wings can now carry him while hers remain weak and fragile at her sides, as if they were made of spiderwebs and dew. She tries not to feel as if she is the reason her mothers’ always talk in hushed, concerned voices and tries not to think about it too much when her heart flutters and stutters, sending her sight in and out of focus.
She even tries not to think about how, despite her white, onyx, and golden skin soaking in the sun’s warmth, that she still feels cold.
Olena frowns, halting her mismatched and stumbly pace to breath heavily, wondering why Oberyn would decide to leave her side while she napped (but deep down already knowing the exact reason). A little whine leaves her pink lips that then turn into a soft pout, lowering her head slightly in a look of defeat, closing her eyes briefly as she realizes how so very tired she already is.
OLENA
& all the stars go dark
i turn the light on in my soul