Emberwood glass into butter, butter into starlight

@Vivian <3 - please forgive the rambling below

Nostalgic.

It was the first word that popped into the titan's mind as his eyes set upon the twisting patterns of the dimly illuminated forest floor, roots sprawling the earth not unlike waves in a rolling sea. He would have called the sight beautiful but the word could not measure to the tranquility he felt stir beneath his breast. No, this was more than just beautiful. This was a world of yesteryear tucked into the fine corners of a looming mountain and a beast so broken, so...unbefitting as himself did not belong in it. 

And yet it was what he could not have that he wanted most. Oh how he longed for the days of his adolescence when he would slip away to daydream in a forest such as this. After all it was here among the orchestra of branches and fading sunlight that he felt most free, for in any fleeting moment he would draw a shaky breath and allow himself to indulge in the nearly forgotten, lighthearted ways of his youth.

The dimming sunlight threaded through the copse of forestry alike pin needles; small, minuscule beams fighting against the density to triumphantly caress the foliage obscured below, if only for a few, tender moments, that seemed fleeting in the hasty advent of nightfall.  She journeyed here despite her ailment – her lungs fighting her every step of the way – though it paled in comparison to the discomfort she felt amongst them.  Under the fortitudinous and proud expression veneered across her beauteous visage she writed in her anguish beneath – silently, secretly – for although she could now call this land home, she felt as though she were some leprous stowaway.  A vision of youth and loveliness choked into an embarrassing ghost of her former self, stashed under the floorboards for fear of discovery.  She felt alienated, she didn’t belong – and would she ever?  Her mind is hazed with contemplation, her ambulation sluggish, inelegant – an upturned root viperously bites at her wrist, and she stumbles forward.  She startles back to consciousness, her opposite foot steadfastly preserving her balance as it presses doggedly into the soil, and she is left staring blankly at the ground: lifeless, perhaps.  Her throat suddenly releases a cacophonous series of coughs, each becoming more passionate than the last – she gasps for oxygen, gagging, phlegm oozing from her mouth as a film of tears well upon the rims of her eyes.  She couldn’t understand what was wrong with her – was she doomed to die a peasant’s death?  An inconsequential, unremarkable expiry without those to mourn her?  She dreaded such a fate.  There was no one left to care about her now – she was utterly, bitterly, alone.

don't apologize, that was wonderful to read! @Sanguinus

Archiving since she went inactive. Feel free to reopen if/when she comes back :)

It was not the rustle of shrubbery or the chill in the wind that drew the male's attention elsewhere, but rather the faint sickness that seemed to linger in the rarefied air around him. At first he'd thought it was a fox succumbing to the dread of winter but the closer he got the more it dawned on him that this was one of his own that had fallen to the unfortunate sting of the cold season.

Instincts told him to turn around, to avoid whoever held such an ailing aura about them and for a split second he considered doing so. That was until he caught sight of the weary female from the corner of his eye and a sense of guilt overtook him. He paused, unsure whether to approach and after a moment of thought let out a raspy chuff, leaving it up to her whether or not to engage in conversation or continue on her way.