Desreal: To Formaldehyde

"It is forbidden to kill; therefore all murderers are punished unless they kill in large numbers and to the sound of trumpets. "
-Voltaire-

She misses him.

She misses him more than she should.

….

But that was not why she was in Desreal. Not intentionally. Skylar had come because she was curious. She had never seen Desreal in the light that she would now. Before, she had not known that this was the very place that her mother had died. Before it was simply Desreal and nothing more. Now it was significant to the girl because ultimately, it brought her to where she was now. Ultimately, Hawthorne’s death was what caused her to grow up.

It was this thought alone that propelled her to Desreal.

The range had always, and would always, be her home. Skylar knows this. Perhaps it was simply because she had been born there, beneath the thick myriad of trees and meadows. It was all that she knew. She recalls a time when she had chased hummingbirds and sneezed upon sniffing a blooming flower, her long white whiskers tickling her in the spring. To this day, nearly five years later, she still found herself sniffing the blooms and watching the hummingbirds, though never trying to chase them. It was different, very different, for her to yearn to be away from it all.

Fate?

I don’t know.

Nonetheless she goes, and enters the place with a trepid step. She goes to the plain where Nicodemus had told her it had happened. For a long while the girls stands there, her eyes surveying the area. It was….cold. Like you knew something had happened there, and it wasn’t something good. Skylar hated it. Nicodemus had told her that he and her aunt Arrakis hadn’t buried Hawthorne, but rather set her into the sea, her original home. But still, she felt…wrong.

Not really knowing what else to do, Skylar touched her nose to the bare earth and breathed. In a matter of seconds, the earth trembled round her, and from the dead ground, life came. A rose, white and beautiful as ever, but not just one, seven. For you, mother. Skylar stepped back to survey her work, and satisfied, she smiles.

But it is then that she sees him.

“Formaldehyde!” An excited laugh.

She races to him then, her smile wider and wider, the paleness of her clinging to the darkness of him.

“Are they kind to you in Solira?” She looks at him in a concerned manner, checking him over briefly for wounds. Suddenly bashful, she turns her face, a long veil of her flaxen white mane concealing her dark eyes. And then, confusion returns. A strange mixture of emotions that she had only ever known once before……

s k y l a r
Scholar, Andarin, Air III, Earth III
Nicodemus x Hawthorne