Like dull, dry pebbles on a beach, the tiles slipped out from under
her feet, trying to tumble away through through the night. Sometimes she
slid with them, but never for very long. She had somewhere to go. She
wouldn't be swept away just yet. Ever upwards she climbed, fitting her
fingers into cracks no human eye would ever see. Just as well.
From up here on the roof she could see all the way to the ocean. West across the ocean. She tore her gaze away. She was never to go there, and there is no comfort in fading memories. Just like she would be soon. Nothing more then a fading whisper winding through dying trees.
She was, however, not overly sad because of this. No, the loss of her life was nothing to what she had already cried for. She wouldn't waste tears on something so redundant. It had, after all, been her choice to stay here and she did not regret it.
Below her, trees rustled with an invisible wind, murmuring amongst themselves. She was like them now, simply waiting for the wind to blow her away.
Tomorrow, she decided, tomorrow she would leave. Leave for the land of her childhood. If she could not die with the one she loved she would die hidden in the heart-wrenchingly beautiful remnants of her people. At least her soul would be among friends.
Not so high above her now, hung a sharp sliver of silver moon, beckoning to her, washing her with the glittering light of bitter-beautiful memories. She clutched them to her, weaving her way through the stars. Always reaching up, up into the night.
The moon welcomed her, dipping to pick her up, easing her sore arms. She lay down gratefully. She was tired and worn, she had lived a hundred life times and she wanted to finally go to sleep. One last time she looked to the west, whispering it goodbye. Goodbye in her own tongue.
Nemaarie.
From up here on the roof she could see all the way to the ocean. West across the ocean. She tore her gaze away. She was never to go there, and there is no comfort in fading memories. Just like she would be soon. Nothing more then a fading whisper winding through dying trees.
She was, however, not overly sad because of this. No, the loss of her life was nothing to what she had already cried for. She wouldn't waste tears on something so redundant. It had, after all, been her choice to stay here and she did not regret it.
Below her, trees rustled with an invisible wind, murmuring amongst themselves. She was like them now, simply waiting for the wind to blow her away.
Tomorrow, she decided, tomorrow she would leave. Leave for the land of her childhood. If she could not die with the one she loved she would die hidden in the heart-wrenchingly beautiful remnants of her people. At least her soul would be among friends.
Not so high above her now, hung a sharp sliver of silver moon, beckoning to her, washing her with the glittering light of bitter-beautiful memories. She clutched them to her, weaving her way through the stars. Always reaching up, up into the night.
The moon welcomed her, dipping to pick her up, easing her sore arms. She lay down gratefully. She was tired and worn, she had lived a hundred life times and she wanted to finally go to sleep. One last time she looked to the west, whispering it goodbye. Goodbye in her own tongue.
Nemaarie.