Sing to me, I am not doing well
Getting tired of my own words
A few days had passed since the last rain and the ground was firm beneath the feet. In the dark it was difficult to notice any tracks, yet the softly bobbing light kept choosing rocky pathways, ducking and weaving along some unmarked obstacle course, tempting their curious follower to join in and see where it led. The lightbearer had noticed the quiet footfalls behind her early on; a giddy thrill of mischief kept her looking around now, for a glimpse of other lights or a destination worth guiding them along to. Getting tired of my own words
Not that it was entirely necessary. Simply leading them along was funny enough, thrilling in a childish, simple sort of way she had almost forgotten how to enjoy. It became a game, nothing more; how long could she lead, and how far would they follow?
The further into the woods they ventured, the denser it became. Evergreens crowded around sprouting blueberry barrens, shading out the winding paths of a murmuring brook. The blueish light hovered tantalizing over a log that had fallen over the stream, then whisked across and began descending into a dell. There, overturned boulders and mossy crags piled high on either side of the brook as it picked up speed, altering the night-dark landscape into a scene of primeordial beauty, turning the imagination towards hidden watchers and startling shapes only half seen in the poor light. A scent of cool water and green, growing things blended with that of aged wood and moldering things, subtly undercut by some acrid tang lingering behind that was neither smoke not salt but something near to both in the way it stung the nose.
Sing to me, cause I can't hear myself
through the loudness of my own hurts
through the loudness of my own hurts
base inspired by Odd <3
