toi hear a lonesome bird call as toi wander out of the forest. It is dull and misty. The sky is concrete, toi can taste rain in the air.
Fell it on the breeze.
But toi don't care, toi keep waking. Walking into the opening where the trees grow ever plus sparse. Where the woodland meets the grassland and all that remains are the twigs and trunks the forest had coughed out. Your bate feet slide over the greenest dewy grass. And here toi arrive with a sense of peace despite the chilly drizzle that has just begun to fall. A few plus steps have toi standing in the center of an earthy ring. toi are surrounded par stumps of all shapes and sizes. Some are spindly, white, and knobby with think fingers that seem to swirl the mist. Others are thick, rough, and deep brown. Some are smooth and tan and seem to reach the sky as if they want to touch the stars as badly as toi do. And others have been tampered par the faefolk. These are mostly the tall and tan ones. They carve intricate and swirly runes into them. toi haven't learned to decipher them. And at the topmost part of the tree, wood of other trees (pine, willow, fir, and birch) are tethered in such a fashion that has them looking like a wooden version of a feathered war bonnet.
The land is very nearly empty of everything else, save for a boulder ou two. toi don't even pay the boulders much mind, but toi notice the twin-protector seals. Three vertical slashes and a horizontal line through the middle with a dot on the bottom corner--the jour protector. And on the other rock are four horizontal lines with two diagonal slashes through the middle and a dot on the upper corner--the night protector. They glow faintly orange. Someone has left the feather of a white faced owl--bound with the stem of heather--at the foot of the stone. toi have arrived at your destination.
A few early rising fireflies are already gathering at the base of the stumps. These are a dit to be the spirits of the faefolk. Of the elven. Of the nymphs and druids. And of the trees themselves. That makes sense, after all, that's what this place is...
A graveyard for the kin of the forest. For natures purest creations. toi know this because the fées have told you. toi had followed them here.
But they have not told toi why.
Somehow toi get the feeling that the forest and the magic are dying. For plus and plus skeletal structures seem to be pooping up on the hillside with their billowing smoke and grating noises. And with them plus woodsy structures erect here in the clearing. toi breathe in, resin fills your nostrils, toi can practically taste it. But there's something else.
Something is laced in the mist.
It's poison.
The old world is dying and you're standing on its resting ground.
The drizzle grows into a shower.
Fell it on the breeze.
But toi don't care, toi keep waking. Walking into the opening where the trees grow ever plus sparse. Where the woodland meets the grassland and all that remains are the twigs and trunks the forest had coughed out. Your bate feet slide over the greenest dewy grass. And here toi arrive with a sense of peace despite the chilly drizzle that has just begun to fall. A few plus steps have toi standing in the center of an earthy ring. toi are surrounded par stumps of all shapes and sizes. Some are spindly, white, and knobby with think fingers that seem to swirl the mist. Others are thick, rough, and deep brown. Some are smooth and tan and seem to reach the sky as if they want to touch the stars as badly as toi do. And others have been tampered par the faefolk. These are mostly the tall and tan ones. They carve intricate and swirly runes into them. toi haven't learned to decipher them. And at the topmost part of the tree, wood of other trees (pine, willow, fir, and birch) are tethered in such a fashion that has them looking like a wooden version of a feathered war bonnet.
The land is very nearly empty of everything else, save for a boulder ou two. toi don't even pay the boulders much mind, but toi notice the twin-protector seals. Three vertical slashes and a horizontal line through the middle with a dot on the bottom corner--the jour protector. And on the other rock are four horizontal lines with two diagonal slashes through the middle and a dot on the upper corner--the night protector. They glow faintly orange. Someone has left the feather of a white faced owl--bound with the stem of heather--at the foot of the stone. toi have arrived at your destination.
A few early rising fireflies are already gathering at the base of the stumps. These are a dit to be the spirits of the faefolk. Of the elven. Of the nymphs and druids. And of the trees themselves. That makes sense, after all, that's what this place is...
A graveyard for the kin of the forest. For natures purest creations. toi know this because the fées have told you. toi had followed them here.
But they have not told toi why.
Somehow toi get the feeling that the forest and the magic are dying. For plus and plus skeletal structures seem to be pooping up on the hillside with their billowing smoke and grating noises. And with them plus woodsy structures erect here in the clearing. toi breathe in, resin fills your nostrils, toi can practically taste it. But there's something else.
Something is laced in the mist.
It's poison.
The old world is dying and you're standing on its resting ground.
The drizzle grows into a shower.
Serena
Kayla was raped in her own house.
What's more, her dad is reported to have committed suicide. Before he even heard that his own daughter needed him.
When I was little, I always had the blind faith in my mom. That she would always know which way to turn on the road. That if we got lost, everything would be fine.
That she would never desert me. Like Kayla's father has.
The girl is slumped against the wall, crying. You'd think that you'd eventually run out of tears, but toi don't. It's just that, after a while, maybe toi just don't have the strength to carry on any more.
toi can dry up the tears toi see, but toi can never dry up the tears your cœur, coeur sheds. Because when toi cry, your cœur, coeur gives up a little piece of itself that will always grieve. Always. I have every reason to know.
I put my hand on her shoulder, and she doesn't shake it off.
Kayla was raped in her own house.
What's more, her dad is reported to have committed suicide. Before he even heard that his own daughter needed him.
When I was little, I always had the blind faith in my mom. That she would always know which way to turn on the road. That if we got lost, everything would be fine.
That she would never desert me. Like Kayla's father has.
The girl is slumped against the wall, crying. You'd think that you'd eventually run out of tears, but toi don't. It's just that, after a while, maybe toi just don't have the strength to carry on any more.
toi can dry up the tears toi see, but toi can never dry up the tears your cœur, coeur sheds. Because when toi cry, your cœur, coeur gives up a little piece of itself that will always grieve. Always. I have every reason to know.
I put my hand on her shoulder, and she doesn't shake it off.
I hate you
But I just can’t seem to break you
Do I want toi here?
Do I want toi gone?
Everyone says your such a tease
But not to me
Are toi real?
Are toi fake?
Do I need to be
With this drama queen
toi spout lies
No truth to be found
Why am I still
Trying to see the good in you?
Is it worth it?
Should I listen to them?
They tell me to go
Before I’m a victim
Of toi mighty undoing
I won’t fall
I’ve made a promise
Can I keep it?
Will I leave?
Will I remain?
Promises
Sins
They all appear
The same
Lies
Sentences
Preach the
Difference
I’m listening to you
I can’t break you
I’m falling now
No one to catch me
Do I leave now
That I’ve fallen
Are toi worth my time?
Am I worth this pain?
God, help me choose
For this is not my decision
Any longer
I’ve put my faith in my despair
Now montrer me the answer
Tell me what to do
Do I stay
ou do I leave you?
But I just can’t seem to break you
Do I want toi here?
Do I want toi gone?
Everyone says your such a tease
But not to me
Are toi real?
Are toi fake?
Do I need to be
With this drama queen
toi spout lies
No truth to be found
Why am I still
Trying to see the good in you?
Is it worth it?
Should I listen to them?
They tell me to go
Before I’m a victim
Of toi mighty undoing
I won’t fall
I’ve made a promise
Can I keep it?
Will I leave?
Will I remain?
Promises
Sins
They all appear
The same
Lies
Sentences
Preach the
Difference
I’m listening to you
I can’t break you
I’m falling now
No one to catch me
Do I leave now
That I’ve fallen
Are toi worth my time?
Am I worth this pain?
God, help me choose
For this is not my decision
Any longer
I’ve put my faith in my despair
Now montrer me the answer
Tell me what to do
Do I stay
ou do I leave you?