bea
It’s been dark for days.
At least, she thinks it’s been days — time has little meaning when there is no sun or moon, and she has spent most of her time napping in order to adjust. A pile of yellow-glowing bones tangled with the bones of her siblings — usually the rest of the quads, though she doesn’t discriminate amongst the other twelve. She’ll snore in anyone’s ear.
In her large family, it would be easy to get lost or feel neglected, but she never had. Her mother was warm and loving and her father loving too, in his own, quieter way. She’s seen her father cringe countless times as he and most of the children became skeletal every night, his silent apology for passing on his curse. Bea has never thought of it as a curse; instead, she feels glee in her body’s defiance, giddy in her oddities.
It is why she doesn’t think of how strange the sight of a glowing skeleton would be as she wanders her way out of Tephra and towards the Meadow. She is equally oblivious as to how embarrassed she should feel as she makes several attempts to fly — the lazy girl’s preferred method of transportation — on her bone-wings, a useless combination of flapping and jumping. Bea’s subtle glow helps her find her way through the deep darkness, following the distant noise of chatter until it becomes recognizable conversation.
The almost-dead grass that would once tickle her belly is dull against her bone as she passes by the small clusters, unsure of where exactly to come to a stop. On her way, she manages to side-swipe a black horse who grunts his displeasure at her. “I’m so sorry!” she tosses back to him as she trots away briskly, hoping to avoid anymore uncomfortable encounters but knowing her chances were slim.
At least, she thinks it’s been days — time has little meaning when there is no sun or moon, and she has spent most of her time napping in order to adjust. A pile of yellow-glowing bones tangled with the bones of her siblings — usually the rest of the quads, though she doesn’t discriminate amongst the other twelve. She’ll snore in anyone’s ear.
In her large family, it would be easy to get lost or feel neglected, but she never had. Her mother was warm and loving and her father loving too, in his own, quieter way. She’s seen her father cringe countless times as he and most of the children became skeletal every night, his silent apology for passing on his curse. Bea has never thought of it as a curse; instead, she feels glee in her body’s defiance, giddy in her oddities.
It is why she doesn’t think of how strange the sight of a glowing skeleton would be as she wanders her way out of Tephra and towards the Meadow. She is equally oblivious as to how embarrassed she should feel as she makes several attempts to fly — the lazy girl’s preferred method of transportation — on her bone-wings, a useless combination of flapping and jumping. Bea’s subtle glow helps her find her way through the deep darkness, following the distant noise of chatter until it becomes recognizable conversation.
The almost-dead grass that would once tickle her belly is dull against her bone as she passes by the small clusters, unsure of where exactly to come to a stop. On her way, she manages to side-swipe a black horse who grunts his displeasure at her. “I’m so sorry!” she tosses back to him as she trots away briskly, hoping to avoid anymore uncomfortable encounters but knowing her chances were slim.
bea