how long will we blame the devils on our shoulders
Whether or not she intended to stay in Taviora, I do not know. It is hardly a concern of mine, for a home does not define an individual after all. Still, even I knew that I had to keep her close, particularly after Solaris had confirmed what I already knew. She was going to be important some day, or at least, she could be. So, before she had departed, I had told her where to meet me once more. After all, there is more I wish to tell her about... myself. It is odd that I wish to do so but nonetheless, I feel it is right. After all, if she is going to be someone, then she should know who I am.
Today, I will not be Castor. Since my first few months of living, that is who I have been to those I meet. Castor is quiet, unassuming, social when the time is right but Eden... Eden is something else, someone else. Perhaps she will not like Eden as much as Castor, but he is truly who I am and... it is Eden that wishes to keep her close. Besides, I am unsure how much of us is the same. That is the problem with becoming something you are not - you risk losing what you really are.
I moved over the waning snow, leaving my footprints deeply indented so that she might follow them. Winter is fast slipping away, and come spring, I will be coming to my third year. Winter is a volatile time of the month I have found and I am glad that it is departing, though I know come the next snow, it will be even worst. All winter, I have thought of that despicable creature Lihi, that clings and reeks of my brother. She is a plague that itches the skin and runs my throat dry and yet... all winter. I am glad to have escaped her, and now, I am even better able to drown her out of my mind with the coming arrival of Mistletoe. She is not weak. She is not a plague, and if she were, perhaps Moladion would be for the better.
I remain nestled in a clearing of boulders, sheltered beneath a jutting edge. From here, I can see much of the Crags, and I search for her. There is a smile playing on my features, discrete as it is. I look forward to seeing her. I can only hope she has not forgotten, or that she has not fallen to some form of weakness in our time apart.
"Mistletoe..."
I will call to her the moment I lay eyes on her, my voice hushed and beckoning. Let her come, for it is time.
and pose like angels on the outside
when all i am is a monster