[private] society, you're a crazy breed; assailant

[Wishbone]

it's a mystery to me

we have a greed with which we have agreed. you think you have to want more than you need; until you have it all you won't be free. and when you think more than you want, your thoughts begin to bleed.

She often dreams of her childhood. Perhaps it is because her failures at motherhood consume so much of her daily thoughts. Her mind aches to catch a break from the constant thinking and grieving and regretting. As night begins to fall, her mind twists the day’s thoughts into a melting pot of memories. In the hours that she can sleep, she is an auburn child again, knees scratched from the rough face of the volcano. Sickle is with her in some dreams, and at other times it is Malik. She runs through the woods with Wolfbane, Rivuline, and Delphi.

The dreams are like knives to her heart. They remind her of the bittersweet innocence of children. They remind her of all the ways she has failed to protect her children. Some mornings she wakens with a burning anger in her chest and other times the sunrise glistens off her tear-stained cheeks. She is full of regrets and mistakes and failures. The soft optimism her mother had taught her has become hardened by the hands of life.

When her eyes open to a foggy autumn morning, Wishbone feels only an empty heaviness. It is a strange feeling, to be heavy and empty at the same time. As she stretches her dark legs along the dew-soaked riverbank, she wonders if she would float away if it weren’t for the weight of her sins holding her down. Each step feels purposeful and yet entirely uncontrolled.

It has been years since she has shown her face to society. The shame of her failure as a queen and a mother has made her panicked at the thought of conversation. At the sound of approaching footsteps, Wishbone’s heart drums quicker and she feels her throat go dry.

credit to eliza of adoxography.

@assailant

[assailant]

Still he finds himself wandering from the Dale, partially in search of more new faces, but also because he can’t quite bring himself to call it home. Rising long before the sun, he ambles lazily through the common lands that are becoming quite familiar to him. He skirts the base of the Mountain, taking a moment to cast a long glance up to its craggy peak and reflect on the changes that brought into his life. But he does not linger too much, beckoned by something elsewhere.

He finds a shallow portion of the river and wades into it, intending to cross into the Meadow, but at the last moment, he continues south along the pebbled shore opposite his starting point. He’s already spent plenty of time in the Forest and the Meadow, so he wants to see what else there might be.

As he moves further, large rocks begin to pepper the waters, creating turbulence and rushing sounds that disturb the peacefulness he’d been enjoying. He notices a sharp decline in the distance where the river suddenly drops from sight. Prudence leads him to climb the bank, to find a more surefooted path to continue following.

That’s when he notices her, stretching in morning fog. As the light shifts, he finds himself intrigued by the purple hues that come to life. Quietly, but not too quietly, he draws nearer to call out. “Hello there.”

His eyes drift to the glowing scar on her chest, surprised how similar it looks to another he’d recently seen. He does not look for long and says nothing of it, easily realizing that it may not be something she wishes to discuss. Lucky for her and any others seeking refuge from questionable pasts, he knows very little of Beqanna and her people’s history, despite being older than most he has met. So, he offers a kind smile.

“I am Assailant. Are you new to the area?”

assailant

"The comfort zone is always the most desirable place to be. But in settling for comfort, there is a price to pay and it comes in the death of ambition, of hope, of youth, and the death of self."
-Simon Barnes

image by EnchantedHawke
@Wishbone