Theea
The sun is falling behind the trees. It dapples in stunning ways against the fae architecture, leaving a golden haze behind as twilight descends. It's all soft lanternlight and curling shadows as I walk its winding paths all the way into the closing market, my backpack slung over one shoulder and my feet just beginning to ache in my boots. There's music somewhere—faint, lilting, the sort that always sounds like it's being played just around the corner, no matter where you are. The Sidhe village always feel like dreams stitched together with silver thread and moss.
My stomach grumbles, but I ignore it. Again. I've got plenty of food left, but I'm not ready to stop yet. Stupid, annoying human needs like food and sleep and using the bathroom. I'd probably be half way to Torchline if I didn't need any of that.
I've asked at five houses now, an inn, a shop, three closing stalls, and even a little herb stand with a wooden fox carved into the post. Nothing. "No room," or "No work for you," or the most common: that polite but pointed smile, the kind that doesn't quite meet the eyes. I don't blame them. A newcomer without anything to offer, trailing dust and questions. I suppose I'd been lucky to meet Nikki, kind as he is. I think to find him and ask for a place to sleep that isn't the wet woods, but I can't bring myself to ask for more from him.
So, I keep smiling when I ask the next person for work and a room. I try to mean it, too.
Now, with the sun folding itself into the trees, I settle on the edge of the silted pathway. My feet dangle over the glittering Symphony as I sip the last of my water. The evening is chilly but not cold. Not yet. I'll camp again. It’s fine. The woods aren’t far and I passed a little alcove beneath a flowering tree that looked sheltered enough.
It's fine. Really.
I wish I'd asked my mom more about skyships. Then I'd really be halfway to Torchline by now, and that much closer to meeting the family from all her stories—the whole world's stories.
I swing my bag around to plop beside me, and my arm dives in all the way up to my shoulder. After some rummaging, I'm able to retrieve tonight's positively delectable dinner: more jerky! Bread too, that I was able to trade my bucket hat for; it had gotten me two apples, too. The jerky is set aside, and I grab the bread —
"Fuck!" I fumble it straight into the river.
My stomach grumbles, but I ignore it. Again. I've got plenty of food left, but I'm not ready to stop yet. Stupid, annoying human needs like food and sleep and using the bathroom. I'd probably be half way to Torchline if I didn't need any of that.
I've asked at five houses now, an inn, a shop, three closing stalls, and even a little herb stand with a wooden fox carved into the post. Nothing. "No room," or "No work for you," or the most common: that polite but pointed smile, the kind that doesn't quite meet the eyes. I don't blame them. A newcomer without anything to offer, trailing dust and questions. I suppose I'd been lucky to meet Nikki, kind as he is. I think to find him and ask for a place to sleep that isn't the wet woods, but I can't bring myself to ask for more from him.
So, I keep smiling when I ask the next person for work and a room. I try to mean it, too.
Now, with the sun folding itself into the trees, I settle on the edge of the silted pathway. My feet dangle over the glittering Symphony as I sip the last of my water. The evening is chilly but not cold. Not yet. I'll camp again. It’s fine. The woods aren’t far and I passed a little alcove beneath a flowering tree that looked sheltered enough.
It's fine. Really.
I wish I'd asked my mom more about skyships. Then I'd really be halfway to Torchline by now, and that much closer to meeting the family from all her stories—the whole world's stories.
I swing my bag around to plop beside me, and my arm dives in all the way up to my shoulder. After some rummaging, I'm able to retrieve tonight's positively delectable dinner: more jerky! Bread too, that I was able to trade my bucket hat for; it had gotten me two apples, too. The jerky is set aside, and I grab the bread —
"Fuck!" I fumble it straight into the river.
cause we waited years and years
just to make it worth the tears
to find out that we're not in this alone
so keep your head up high in these hours of the night
so when atlas drops the world on your shoulders, you still won't fall
