are the dead really silent?A call and a cry, a plea for help cut through the words that otherwise assail my ears. So much wrong I have done, I had forgotten the right. She sang to me and called to my being. A child of my blood, a daughter of my soul. The words around me changed and I stepped from the shadows that had come to surround me, moving into the light of the world of the living.
Before her song has a chance to fade I lift my own hollow voice. The echoes of a voice long past right lightly through the air. The whisps of a voice that had never been full barely a whisper upon the wind. But it continues the song she had started and assures he that I will be there. Blood of my soul, I will always be there.
Long legs carry me easily over the rolling plains of Asteraia. There is no challenge to lope across the trails. I find her easily, my form circling around her, protectively, a solid wraith walking where it possibly should not. The once silky fur that had shined with health withered under the distress of crimes against nature. I looked at my child, my daughter, ashamed of who I had become in a lapse of sight but dreaming of a chance to make it right. To at least be forgiven in her eyes, in the eyes that mirrored those of me and Psyche.
Yes, my daughter? I ask, lowering my body to her level so she may speak to me without craning, or to climb on me if she chose. My body for her to use as she pleased. For comfort or grounding, protection, or proclamation. I submit before my blood. I would give everything for my family. Everything in a heartbeat or a whisper. lord; 41in/190lbs; Psyche’s fateXheartless; Asteraia |