liesma
She steals away into the night when her mother and father are asleep.
There are nights when she is content simply to watch them, the way her father bends himself around her mother, how fiercely he loves her. And she loves them just as fiercely, both of them, and she tells them as much before she goes, a testament murmured into the still summer air before she turns and disappears into the darkness.
(But it is never fully dark, is it? It can never be dark with the way she sets the night ablaze.)
She will be back. She would never leave them without telling them goodbye in a way that they could hear her. No, this is only temporary. And it is not the first time she has slunk off into the wilds either. But she is always back by morning, blinking bleary-eyed into the rising sun.
Her heart flutters wild in her chest, a rabbit-hearted thing as she chases a shaft of moonlight across the meadow. She races across a wide open stretch of grass until her lungs burn and, finally, she comes to rest. It is there that she closes her eyes and, chest heaving, closes her eyes.
But she does not sleep. If it was sleep she was after, she would have stayed tucked close to her mother and father. She would have curled herself into whatever narrow space she could fit and slept among their warmth.
No, it is not sleep she’s after at all.
She thinks hard about the stars overhead, the stars splashed brilliantly across her body. (The first time this happened, it was by accident. She had been staring at the stars overhead for so long that she could see them still when she closed her eyes and when she’d opened them again, she had pulled them closer to earth.) She thinks so hard about them that she thinks she’s breathing them in and when she opens her eyes they have cast themselves out of the sky and come down to surround her where she stands in the meadow.
She marvels quietly in their brilliance, though she has not yet worked out exactly how the magic works and has not been able to make it work quite on purpose. She blinks at them as they shimmer and dance in the air around her and then wink out all at once when she hears a noise in the middle distance and whips her head around to seek out the source.
There are nights when she is content simply to watch them, the way her father bends himself around her mother, how fiercely he loves her. And she loves them just as fiercely, both of them, and she tells them as much before she goes, a testament murmured into the still summer air before she turns and disappears into the darkness.
(But it is never fully dark, is it? It can never be dark with the way she sets the night ablaze.)
She will be back. She would never leave them without telling them goodbye in a way that they could hear her. No, this is only temporary. And it is not the first time she has slunk off into the wilds either. But she is always back by morning, blinking bleary-eyed into the rising sun.
Her heart flutters wild in her chest, a rabbit-hearted thing as she chases a shaft of moonlight across the meadow. She races across a wide open stretch of grass until her lungs burn and, finally, she comes to rest. It is there that she closes her eyes and, chest heaving, closes her eyes.
But she does not sleep. If it was sleep she was after, she would have stayed tucked close to her mother and father. She would have curled herself into whatever narrow space she could fit and slept among their warmth.
No, it is not sleep she’s after at all.
She thinks hard about the stars overhead, the stars splashed brilliantly across her body. (The first time this happened, it was by accident. She had been staring at the stars overhead for so long that she could see them still when she closed her eyes and when she’d opened them again, she had pulled them closer to earth.) She thinks so hard about them that she thinks she’s breathing them in and when she opens her eyes they have cast themselves out of the sky and come down to surround her where she stands in the meadow.
She marvels quietly in their brilliance, though she has not yet worked out exactly how the magic works and has not been able to make it work quite on purpose. She blinks at them as they shimmer and dance in the air around her and then wink out all at once when she hears a noise in the middle distance and whips her head around to seek out the source.
i see you shining through the treetops
But i don’t feel you pulling strings anymore
But i don’t feel you pulling strings anymore
@Jeje