[ Post a Response | Desreal ]
Posted by - nievian on March 25, 2009, 7:37 pm
172.129.40.235
think of the faces of the people you defend, you defend.
I burn.
I burn, in effigies of broken promise and lies, in an effigy of my own creation; I burn from my pain and my own childish fears – because I am a child, nothing more, just a child and an abandoned one at that. I was the child my mother never wanted, and tonight – this moonlit, silent night – I feel it crash down around me more than ever. Too, I stand alone, silent and afraid; there is a ball of dread in my stomach, and I don’t know why – it scares the hell out of me, though, and the Seed’s flurry of images does nothing to soothe me. It flutters away and I run after it, trapped by some sort of irrational fear that tells me not to let it stray from me.
I don’t know why I start to think of Him, of my sun, my stars, my heart, but I do, and as I burn, my flames vivid and indigo blue against the darkness of Andarin’s forests, tiny white daisies bloom and spread outward from my feet; here, I can grief, because it’s here, sheltered in the only place I’ve ever really known, that I feel I can heal. I weep for Him, silently, in the darkness; there is no one to see the tears on my cheeks as I cry for Him, for my mother I never knew, for all the people I never bothered get to know; I wished I could become that quiet little Nievegirl I know I could be.
Above all, I cry for myself, because I am broken because I was never truly whole; how could I be? All the people I loved (all the people who have left me, except for Lycoris) all have pieces of me, and when they left or died or vanished into the night, I was left with the tiny little piece of me that I kept to myself, the few things about me that no one knows and no one will, and my power. My powers war with each other and merge with each other and collide in a swirling vortex of winds and flame and earth, leaves and rose petals spiraling around me while I burn and my winds circle us all, endlessly.
And then, a wind that is not my own rises, stirs, and I am suddenly very, very cold.
The moon watches me from where I huddle in a sheltering copse of trees, Her silver radiance keeping me from losing my mind as the night plays cruel tricks on my ears and eyes. The Earth pulses comfortingly at my feet, brambles and roses and vines twisting and curling up my legs and keeping me rooted where I tremble. My Wind spins around me, sending the Fire that burns over my skin dancing; I never thought about the three elements I held, because I (in my youth and my naivety) didn't understand that it was unusual. The wind that isn't mine whips through my shelter, fiercely this time; strange sounds that aren't there, howls and screams and cries of pain, of torture and despair, circle around me. I'm terrified, but like any small creature who has wandered too far from her safety zone, I'm not sure where to go.
So I stand still, trembling violently as my elements draw close, as the Seed sends me a flurry of images (all of them of things I don't understand, things I should have understood, things that lead to my downfall).
I stand, and I tremble, and the Darkness presses close.
although we are men with mortal sin, angels never cry. 10
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