when my time comes around

Neoma She stood at the bottom of the waterfall, the pouring curtain of sheer force rang in her ears. Neoma reached out her hand. The cold burned her. She reached her hand further in, but the rest of her body stiffened and she pulled it back out again. She screamed at the water at the top of her lungs, then thrust herself at the rock beneath her feet. Mist surrounded her and scathed her cheeks, like embers. She held back her tears and she looked at her hands, whose warmth used to be soothed by the cool of a calm spring, but now yearned for the singe of lava’s molten embrace. Neoma faced the rocky cliff beside the falling water, and shifted into a snake-like chain of solid rock. Her clothes melted into her Rockslider form, and she dug into the cliff face of the water-fall, tunneling her way up and up. Then her form reassembled itself into her snow-white hair and silken garments, as she alighted near the top of the water. Facing the peril of the fall with sunken eyes and a half-hearted smile. “What have I to lose, anyway?” Her feet planted firmly on the damp rock, while her eyes teased the precipitous drop. Remember. Or don't. It's up to you.