and i was thrashing on the line
Zairah stays where she is, her gaze fixed on the horizon. Centuries. The word echoes in her head, bigger than she can hold. She feels it is a long time, but how long? Longer than the time she’s been stone? Longer than the flicker of life that burns inside her now? She doesn’t feel like she’s slept for centuries. She feels… new. Like her skin and bones hadn’t finished stitching together.
And then there's the goddess. Dygra. When Danta speaks her name, something deep inside Zairah pulls taut, like a thread she didn’t know was there. It was familiar and strange all at once, warm in a way she couldn’t explain. But she still doesn’t understand.
She doesn’t ask. She isn't sure how.
Instead, she glances sideways at Danta, the borrowed shirt hanging crooked on her thin frame. Her tail flicks once, and the words come out rough but certain. “Fine,” she says, “I’ll go with you. To the Hollowed Grounds.”
She pulls the shirt tighter not for modesty, just for the strange comfort of being contained, and finally tears her gaze away from the Climb. “I want to see it,” she adds, the words quieter but no less fierce, “and everything else that's out there. I want to understand what it all means.”
She hesitated, brows knitting as she turned his words over again. Something about the way he’d said brother or sister. She looked back at him, her voice softer, almost uncertain.
“So… you’re my brother? And I have other... brothers and sisters?”
She didn’t add the other questions circling in her chest, the ones that felt too big and heavy to speak aloud.
And then there's the goddess. Dygra. When Danta speaks her name, something deep inside Zairah pulls taut, like a thread she didn’t know was there. It was familiar and strange all at once, warm in a way she couldn’t explain. But she still doesn’t understand.
She doesn’t ask. She isn't sure how.
Instead, she glances sideways at Danta, the borrowed shirt hanging crooked on her thin frame. Her tail flicks once, and the words come out rough but certain. “Fine,” she says, “I’ll go with you. To the Hollowed Grounds.”
She pulls the shirt tighter not for modesty, just for the strange comfort of being contained, and finally tears her gaze away from the Climb. “I want to see it,” she adds, the words quieter but no less fierce, “and everything else that's out there. I want to understand what it all means.”
She hesitated, brows knitting as she turned his words over again. Something about the way he’d said brother or sister. She looked back at him, her voice softer, almost uncertain.
“So… you’re my brother? And I have other... brothers and sisters?”
She didn’t add the other questions circling in her chest, the ones that felt too big and heavy to speak aloud.
somewhere between desperate and divine
Zairah
