Ouroboros Spine vii. and scrub between the cracks.

insomnia strikes again so this is forward dated to 04/15/2023. <333

 

she could not have forgotten this place. 

the way home had eluded her, the name and times a jumble of mismatched pieces. her memory had been torn full of holes. 

but these mountains had haunted her dreams. 

much like in the forest, lótë found she could only stand and observe as emotion of all shape and size roiled like whitewater of the qeya beneath her flesh. 

things would be different, this much she knew. but to what end? 

did they hate her?

had the death songs been sung? 

the scents upon the border were both familiar and not. this was to be expected, however. much could change in such a small amount of time and the dove couldn't pinpoint how long she'd been gone. long enough, at least. 

faced with the sudden moment she'd been seeking for nearly a year, aiwë found she almost couldn't bring herself to call out to the village. fear abounded, her heart pounding as she gazed up at the heights of the spine. 

she didn't think she could survive it if they turned her away. to be seen as a spirit, to be death-cursed and incorporeal to those she loved, was surely a fate worse than true death.

as it was, the herd-stalker could think of nowhere else she could or wanted to go. moonglow and its sister villages, the ones within, were all she had. (aside, of course, from saviguk and a briefly met kinsmen named @Sandulf.) 

yet. her children were here. somewhere. even without their scents upon the land, lótë knew this was the one place they would all eventually return to. 

she howled. wordless. only a tentative ? that in no way could summarize all the things she wished to say.