can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shooting stars,
I could really use a wish right now;
She felt like her world was spiraling.
The plague had settled into her veins long ago, and even though her parents had tried to keep her safe, they had other things to distract them from her. Perhaps not her father, so much, but certainly her mother. Ryatah had been over-protective at first once she realized her daughter had fell ill, keeping her close and refusing to let her leave Tephra. But it didn’t last. As she was so prone to doing, her presence was sporadic at best, with new scents still clinging to her skin, and new eyes, (and she would never forget the way her mother had looked at her for the first time with those almost-black eyes, the way they had brimmed with tears and she pulled her so tightly to her chest, and for a moment Evenstar almost thought she was going to stay, for good) but that she wouldn’t explain how they had came to be. And then the twins; the twins that were not her father’s, with their impossibly black coats, and it confused her the way her mother cooed over them with virtually no guilt.
She wanted to dislike them, but she didn’t have it in herself. Evenstar was too kind, too caring, and when their mother disappeared – again – she watched over them, filling them with the empty promise that Ryatah would be back soon. She’s probably with your father, is what she never says, even though the thought crosses her mind.
When she comes to the forest, it is an attempt to clear her head from everything else. She felt a little guilty about leaving the twins behind in Tephra, but for now, she just wanted to forget everything. She was still, all things considered, a child herself, and everything was slowly becoming too much. Perhaps the mindless hum of those around her would be enough to lull her into a false sense of serenity.
The autumn sun is high in the sky, and the cool rays strain through the thick trees to caress her jade-green shoulders as she walks. It is oddly quiet, and for a moment, she revels in it. It is not until she realizes that the birdsong has all but ceased, that the sunlight had become suffocated by the shadows, that she stops. She cannot explain the cool prickle of anxiety that suddenly races up her spine, but something tells her she should go back. Slowly, she turns, and when she comes face to face with him, a gasp of surprise spills from her tongue before she can stop it. “Hi,” The incredibly softly spoken word almost seems loud in the hush of the forest, as she tries to differentiate his face and body from the shroud of darkness he stands in. “I...I think I might be lost.” She swallows nervously, glancing up at him cautiously with her wide, brown eyes.
Her mother — for all the truthful stories she could have woven — had never warned her of what lurked in the dark, and she doesn’t know enough to be properly afraid.
I'm praying that this stairway leads somewhere like Heaven's door,
and when you get there don't look down