01-31-2022, 01:50 AM
Ryatah
WHEN I WAS SHIPWRECKED I THOUGHT OF YOU
IN THE CRACKS OF LIGHT I DREAMED OF YOU
She shouldn’t be here.
She could not stay in Hyaline forever, she knew this, but she also should not be in the meadow, at least not by herself. There had been a familiar itch beneath her skin, though, the kind that she could not resist. The one that felt like a band being pulled taut, and instead of seeing how hard it needed to be stretched before it snapped she wanted to cut it herself. She had not felt it in a long time, not since being killed by Gale, and she was surprised that upon feeling it she did not feel anticipation, she felt anger.
The tension had brewed like a storm in her veins and immediately she wanted to lash at it, to make it disappear before she gave into it. When the scar across her chest—the one left behind from Gale ruthlessly extracting her heart—began to burn with a phantom pain she knew the tendrils of shadow were soon to follow, and instinctively she tried to find Atrox.
But in the haze of darkness that crept across the edges of her mind she misjudges where she is trying to teleport to, and when she finds herself in the meadow the shock of landing somewhere unexpected jars her even further.
She stands for a long moment, her heartbeat pounding an unsteady rhythm in her ears, and she is suddenly hyper-aware of how loudly her blood rushes in her veins, of how bright her aura is even in the light of day—how she is a blinding white, glittering beacon that seems to scream for danger to look at her.
When Lilliana’s voice cuts through her panic she spins towards her in a shower of stardust, the soft glow of her halo seeming to draw the worry and confusion straight from the depths of her nearly black eyes so that they might reflect clearly on the surface. “What?” She says the word without really thinking, and it takes a moment for Lilli’s face to register as someone familiar, and there is a moment of relief that floods through her once it does. She had never seen Lilliana in the void, which leads her to believe that this is real, because her mind mostly circulated the same faces over and over: Atrox and Carnage.
Only, none of the words that Lilliana says make sense.
She stands there in a heavy silence, the anxiety once more building in her chest as she tries to decipher what she is saying—the Pass, and how none of this is right. None of this seems right, her mind repeats, and she looks around at the meadow; the same meadow that she has been coming to for over a hundred years, the same meadow that remained one of the few parts of Beqanna that was always untouched. The meadow that was now completely not right and not real, but she looks at Lilliana’s familiar blue eyes and forces herself to speak to her as if she is. “Lilli, we’re in the meadow. Where is the Pass?”
She could not stay in Hyaline forever, she knew this, but she also should not be in the meadow, at least not by herself. There had been a familiar itch beneath her skin, though, the kind that she could not resist. The one that felt like a band being pulled taut, and instead of seeing how hard it needed to be stretched before it snapped she wanted to cut it herself. She had not felt it in a long time, not since being killed by Gale, and she was surprised that upon feeling it she did not feel anticipation, she felt anger.
The tension had brewed like a storm in her veins and immediately she wanted to lash at it, to make it disappear before she gave into it. When the scar across her chest—the one left behind from Gale ruthlessly extracting her heart—began to burn with a phantom pain she knew the tendrils of shadow were soon to follow, and instinctively she tried to find Atrox.
But in the haze of darkness that crept across the edges of her mind she misjudges where she is trying to teleport to, and when she finds herself in the meadow the shock of landing somewhere unexpected jars her even further.
She stands for a long moment, her heartbeat pounding an unsteady rhythm in her ears, and she is suddenly hyper-aware of how loudly her blood rushes in her veins, of how bright her aura is even in the light of day—how she is a blinding white, glittering beacon that seems to scream for danger to look at her.
When Lilliana’s voice cuts through her panic she spins towards her in a shower of stardust, the soft glow of her halo seeming to draw the worry and confusion straight from the depths of her nearly black eyes so that they might reflect clearly on the surface. “What?” She says the word without really thinking, and it takes a moment for Lilli’s face to register as someone familiar, and there is a moment of relief that floods through her once it does. She had never seen Lilliana in the void, which leads her to believe that this is real, because her mind mostly circulated the same faces over and over: Atrox and Carnage.
Only, none of the words that Lilliana says make sense.
She stands there in a heavy silence, the anxiety once more building in her chest as she tries to decipher what she is saying—the Pass, and how none of this is right. None of this seems right, her mind repeats, and she looks around at the meadow; the same meadow that she has been coming to for over a hundred years, the same meadow that remained one of the few parts of Beqanna that was always untouched. The meadow that was now completely not right and not real, but she looks at Lilliana’s familiar blue eyes and forces herself to speak to her as if she is. “Lilli, we’re in the meadow. Where is the Pass?”
AND IT WAS REAL ENOUGH TO GET ME THROUGH —
BUT I SWEAR YOU WERE THERE
@lilliana