Hushed Willows oh no, i’m sorry if i smothered you,

It was the whispering that woke them from their sleep— be it the snow or the tendrils of clustered willow shifting in the wind, as they woke they felt the stirrings of life caught in His breath; sussuration, like a sigh, which crept down their throat like the forbidden serpent — twisted, next, as if to constrict the heart of the vessel. There was pressure as they woke; yet as the eyes opened and beheld the white of this nowhere-place, that breath pulsed from them in a gasp, and they knew life again. 

The head lifts, eyes blinking, and they hear the snow collect around them where they lay exposed—bundled, bloodied, yet bare here beneath the swaying of the trees. Watched-over, much as she might have once done the watching. The brisk winter air fills the lungs of the vessel and as a plume is exhaled from parted lips, she cannot help but think — 'What have I done?'

Why has she fallen — and how far? Where is her father?

There comes another sound, repetitive too yet clamorous, sharp to ears that had survived so long on silence. Something was moving across this idyllic winterscape and coming closer. She rises in panic and the vessel's limbs react in conjunction to the panic of her new heart; instinct tells her to look, listen — but she feels the pain of her new body acutely, a searing sensation along her back where the ribs curve up and meet the spine. Warmth nests there, streaking the silver coat of the vessel with red (diluted and fanned in to the snow around her), and she is immediately distracted by the shocking sight of it.

Forgetting the sound of someone approaching, of the silence as they stop at the crossroads, the fallen is ultimately too distracted by these new (sublime, terrifying) sensations to do much beyond pant in the snow.

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Hope this isn't too chaotic, it'll take a bit for me to figure out how I wanna write her!