"what i truly fear (maybe selfishly)
when i finally rest
someone will summon me"
...
the sky dyes which rests beneath it in a warm red glow. gold soon slips from behind the clouds and sinks 'neath the horizon, soon giving way to an inky-blue sunset.
the woods are quiet this evening. the grass is soft. the white flowers nearly glow in the ever-dimming light.
.
.
.
grass rustles a few trees away; vines snap & quiet panting comes closer, slowly enough. a pale, elf-ish ear flicks and perks at the sudden sound. a silver earring jingles with the movement, glinting faintly.
soon, odd eyes meet green, surrounded by a golden blaze of red-tipped hair.
gold brows furrow, and the sword in the woman's hand dissipates. the remains of the weapon dance around her form for a few moments before leaving her enshrouded in the darkness of the grove once again.
she breathes a low, long sigh, almost of relief. she takes a few long strides forward, finding herself at the feet of the body hidden in the knee-high grass.
"Kozbi," she mumbles, her voice a little strained. "...so here's where you ran off to."
no response.
the deity before them sighs and moves to walk around the body, taking a seat beside them. the grass brushes against her face, getting entangled in already-messy hair. she tucks her hands in her lap.
quiet ensues. the grove completely dims after a few moments -- the only light being the deity herself, her scars glowing in the inky shade.
"...Kozbi," mutters the deity, "are you okay?"
silence.
pristine white ribs creak and stretch against pale skin as they take a deep breath.
"no."
their skeleton cracks and deforms as the faceless slowly rises, every bone popping back into place. a low, shuddering breath deforms their ribcage once more. pale hair falls into their eyes; the blue dye has long since faded.
"not really."
the deity responds without looking, "do...you know why?"
the pale-haired sits there for a moment, mulling over the question.
"...no." is her answer.
the deity closes her eyes, nodding once.
"...okay."
the pale-haired breathes a small sigh, bringing their knees to her chest, arms draped loosely across their shins.
"have you come to drag me back home?"
YOU ARE READING
⑄ 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚛𝚘𝚠'𝚜 𝚓𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚊𝚕 ⑄
Fantasy[ ᴀᴄᴛ ɪ ] 『 ᴏᴘᴇɴ, ᴏᴘᴇɴ, ᴏᴘᴇɴ ᴍᴇ, ᴡᴏɴ'ᴛ ʏᴏᴜ? ʙʀᴇᴀᴋ ᴏᴘᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏᴠᴇʀ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜰᴏʀɢᴏᴛᴛᴇɴ ʙᴏᴏᴋ, ᴀɴᴅ ʟᴏᴏᴋ, ᴀɴᴅ ꜱᴇᴇ ᴀ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ᴏꜰ ᄃΉΛӨƧ - ᴀ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ᴏꜰ DΣMӨПƧ, ᴏꜰ ΛПGΣᄂƧ, ᴏꜰ ƧΉΛPΣƧΉIFƬΣЯƧ ᴀʟɪᴋᴇ - ᴀɴᴅ ꜰɪɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴄᴏᴍꜰᴏʀᴛ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀʀᴍꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇꜱᴇ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴜʀᴇꜱ, ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴀʀᴇ ɴ...
