There's a song in your lung and a dream in your eye.
They had each known death, but in very different ways. She remembers death as only oblivion. A silent, never-ending darkness that erases all pain. For her, the blackness had been a mercy, a great and terrible relief.
But then, she had never been meant to die. Of course, it could also be said that perhaps she had never been meant to live. Whatever the case may be, she had been marked by death. A roadmap of scars decorating every inch of her body, reminding her on a daily basis that that she had seen death and lived. For some, it might remind them of their weakness. But for her, it only ever reminds her of her strength. Of her ability to survive even the worst of odds.
It had also served to help her recognize death for what it is. Many fear death, but she does not. She cannot. If there is anything one should fear, it should be life. Life is inconstant and unpredictable. It is impossible to know what might await you around the next corner. Death is the very least of it.
Fortunately for her perhaps, her thoughts are not quite so maudlin today. Her thoughts instead are focused on her surroundings, on where her feet are taking her. She might have flown, but she chooses to walk instead. Of course, that might also have something to do with how thick the forest is. It is rather difficult to fly when branches keep getting into one’s way. Having spent the last several years in the jungle, the thick foliage of the forest poses little trouble for her, at least when she has her feet on the ground.
Of course, that makes a silent approach slightly harder to accomplish. Unfortunately for her sense of play.
She had thought to sneak up on him, having spied him through the trees and recognized his distinctive form, even in spite of the gray. It was a game they had played in their youth, and she is feeling rather youthful today. But a stick manages to get in her way, snapping loudly beneath her hoof and spoiling her plans.
As she steps from the darkness of the trees, her cracked skin dark and unlit, her pale nose wrinkles slightly, much as it used to when she was a child.
”Well, that was a bust.”
Joscelin
Tiphon x Elysteria