We are sometimes losing it // one fight, baby, then we run for the fun of it
She thought she could find what she wanted in King's End, having run there with her tail between her legs when the Family overtook Stormbreak. Seasons passed, she did fine, but then one letter turned everything on its head:
Ellyra, I miss you. I'm freaking out. Stormbreak is going to fall out of the sky and I don't know if I can do it without you. Lena is dead, and you know I've never gotten along much with the other nurses here. Torchline?
Lena dead. The city falling. A plea.
She packed it all up and headed for the first skyship to Torchline.
Ellyra paced the length of the Kaiholo dock until the pattern of weathered planks had carved itself into her memory. Three steps, a pause. Four more, then she turned sharply, skirt snapping. The air was thick with salt, the cries of gulls slicing through the steady hush of surf, but she barely heard them. Her eyes kept lifting to the horizon, to every sail that broke the line between sea and sky, only to fall again when the shapes coming off the ship didn't resemble her friend Mary.
She worried the leather strap of her satchel until it creaked. A ship creaked into its berth and she flinched, shoulders tightening, breath catching at the bottom of her throat before she forced it out. Time stretched cruelly. She checked the sun’s slow climb, then the water, then the crowd, as if her friend might simply materialize if she looked hard enough. Why wasn't she here yet? King's End was so much further away and Ellyra had made it.
The worry lumped in her throat.
Lena dead. The city falling. A plea.
She packed it all up and headed for the first skyship to Torchline.
Ellyra paced the length of the Kaiholo dock until the pattern of weathered planks had carved itself into her memory. Three steps, a pause. Four more, then she turned sharply, skirt snapping. The air was thick with salt, the cries of gulls slicing through the steady hush of surf, but she barely heard them. Her eyes kept lifting to the horizon, to every sail that broke the line between sea and sky, only to fall again when the shapes coming off the ship didn't resemble her friend Mary.
She worried the leather strap of her satchel until it creaked. A ship creaked into its berth and she flinched, shoulders tightening, breath catching at the bottom of her throat before she forced it out. Time stretched cruelly. She checked the sun’s slow climb, then the water, then the crowd, as if her friend might simply materialize if she looked hard enough. Why wasn't she here yet? King's End was so much further away and Ellyra had made it.
The worry lumped in her throat.
Ellyra
