Sunshine through elm - tree leaves Mischievous eyes, filled with fairy dust and laughter Her little hand,green,clawed, reaching for his even though his touch chilled her Footsteps , crunching twigs, their face disapproving,sun glinting on bared fangs A dual -toned reprimand, contemptuous look at the now-uneasy mortals with eyes aglow in twilit wood Her face turning away , regretful, unwilling His hand holding hers, pulling her to the left of poor company,and after the marching lavamancer She was life, and love, nature's beauty incarnate,she was She ... Her hand is not in his . The moon hangs overhead,rock instead of grass beneath his feet. He looks down. Her staff lies there, forever abandoned just like their mission. His mind is clouded Colors fade in and out He hears warbling birdsong , gusting wind; Sees before him the Wood and the Black Sea. It's night, it's noon... Bellroc walks up behind him. It is him,and them,and there is no Her . Her staff is broken in pieces. Those fragments stab his chest, burying themselves in his heart ,and the wound never heals .
Days became weeks,weeks became months. And then it was years ... decades ... centuries. With each passing and dawning and progressing age,the world changed again. But truth be told,he saw nothing new under the sun. He was always thinking of her. They would say nothing,they did not show how they felt about her defection. They never really showed how they felt ever again,after holding the staff's head in one hand,and casting it furiously into the moonlit waters. Now they were as a hard rock, loveless and uncaring and alien,an associate but not a sibling. They'd shut him out, focusing solely on the balance. She has something in her arm,that she brought with her. A whole plant with purple flowers,placed in his room alive and growing ,its dirt on the floor and her face. He immediately kills it with frost, annoyed at her for bringing unwanted rubbish into his room. He didn't understand back then . What he'd done,why it caused her face to fall ,her eyes to moisten. Why she left him alone the whole night. Now,he thought he could sort of see it. He'd contemplated the last time she ever offered him a gift,many times. Love was a tree you had to constantly and diligently tend to,to ensure its healthy growth. He'd slowly, slowly, killed his and Nari's tree. Every refusal to do some bondig activity with her; every rejection of her gifts; every time he hadn't listened when he should have,and could have, was another dose of deadly cold to that tree. Ultimately,it shriveled and succumbed. She loved him,he knew. He loved her...but it hadn't been enough. She had not even said goodbye-
Skrael awakens.
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There's a pain in his chest, crying out over and over. Nausea rises in his stomach. His mouth tastes bitter. His throat is tight ,and something prickly is lodged in it . Dread, dismay and sorrow howl in his mind, louder than his own gales, unabating. He always awakens like this, these days. He'll lie back down,and all of this will fade. He'll feel like normal, like when she was still here. He'll pretend he's grown used to being alone with company, whilst Bellroc pays no attention. He can't help but wonder if she was right. Was it worth it?
