If she could tell her story, she wouldn’t. She’d keep her life bottled inside her chest like she has always done. Her eyes say what her mouth never could. Those blue pools that live in the sockets of her skull hold memories - words that never make a sound when her chest becomes too full to stop up anymore.
She was born here on these islands. She isn’t exactly sure where, but she imagines her dam would have chosen a place like this. A quiet place away from the clamor of the every day. She finds it difficult to recall the memories she has of her mother. Somewhere in the subconscious halls of her mind there is a pale, ethereal mare slipping silently through viney, ancient trees.
Verse had mothered many children during her lifetime, although all but Lyrae were born on another land so far from here it could have been another planet entirely. How and why her mother and father had come here those years ago remains a mystery that she does not think of often - not anymore. Yet, she remains the only mark they have left behind to mar these islands.
Some time has passed since she has called anywhere home. When she was younger, Rodion had found her here in the Meadow dreaming her dreams and smiling at nothing. He had given her a home in the Inlet. She may have grown old and lived out her life there in peace.
As it always does, life tangled up her story somewhere along the way.
lyrae.
mute daughter of chronic & verse |
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