The flower that blooms in adversity
Her sister's comfort is like a single star in a sea of darkness, unable to overcome the shame and heartbreak that have consumed her, and when her name pierces that void, Nova shrinks from the heaviness of it. She doesn't look up, can't bear to see anything other than the adoring love she's always known from her mom, can't bear the way it cuts deep into her soul. Desperate arms wrap tight around her midsection as if she can block out the devastation eating at her, like she can suffocate the failure coiling there.
She shakes her head, a wetness dampening her cheeks as she sucks in a breath, grappling with the reality that she's let her mom down, that she's embarrassed the goddess by being unable to follow a simple task, that she's not the perfect daughter. Even Safrin's reassurance that her love remains unfazed by the mistake doesn't change the catastrophic shift in Nova's confidence, unable to join together the concepts of simultaneously loving her and being disappointed. She feels diminished and pathetic, believing herself to be lacking in her mother's eyes and the shadow of failure she'd found there.
No matter how softly or gently it's spoken, that word rings again out damningly loud - 'failed' - like a blemish on her name, a label carved into her, something Safrin has seen and disapproved of. It shoves aside the brightness of her soul, intent to set roots and grow a home for itself where it can cast more shadows across her thoughts and burrow deeper into her very being. Like a disease ready to eat away everything within reach, the beast looks first for the most delicious morsels, reaching for the colorful vibrancy of her identity.
And yet, when the goddess speaks, her words hold power, containing the failure to something small and finite - insignificant. 'That is all.' It limits the power of the blight, placing it into a pot where its roots can't take hold and its growth remains insignificant. For a moment, she feels the relief, the failure loosening its devastating hold on her; but what lies beneath is weak and unstable, struggling to rally or stand against the weight of her mother's disappointment.
Lifting her gaze, she catches the remnants of a warm smile directed at Caly, her heart cracking as she remembers when that same look had been directed at both of them only moments before. Now, she's separate, fracturing and broken, undeserving of that same affection. Fresh tears gather in her eyes, already cresting from the height of her emotions and the clear instructions she hears in Safrin's words. Her throat tightens, chin trembling as her blue eyes find the goddess. "I'll be better." She wishes it were a declaration full of war and determination, a powerful proclamation of improvement and unwavering strength - but it's strained and wanting, warbling as a plea that begs forgiveness for her faults, colored with desperation to be a worthy daughter.
She shakes her head, a wetness dampening her cheeks as she sucks in a breath, grappling with the reality that she's let her mom down, that she's embarrassed the goddess by being unable to follow a simple task, that she's not the perfect daughter. Even Safrin's reassurance that her love remains unfazed by the mistake doesn't change the catastrophic shift in Nova's confidence, unable to join together the concepts of simultaneously loving her and being disappointed. She feels diminished and pathetic, believing herself to be lacking in her mother's eyes and the shadow of failure she'd found there.
No matter how softly or gently it's spoken, that word rings again out damningly loud - 'failed' - like a blemish on her name, a label carved into her, something Safrin has seen and disapproved of. It shoves aside the brightness of her soul, intent to set roots and grow a home for itself where it can cast more shadows across her thoughts and burrow deeper into her very being. Like a disease ready to eat away everything within reach, the beast looks first for the most delicious morsels, reaching for the colorful vibrancy of her identity.
And yet, when the goddess speaks, her words hold power, containing the failure to something small and finite - insignificant. 'That is all.' It limits the power of the blight, placing it into a pot where its roots can't take hold and its growth remains insignificant. For a moment, she feels the relief, the failure loosening its devastating hold on her; but what lies beneath is weak and unstable, struggling to rally or stand against the weight of her mother's disappointment.
Lifting her gaze, she catches the remnants of a warm smile directed at Caly, her heart cracking as she remembers when that same look had been directed at both of them only moments before. Now, she's separate, fracturing and broken, undeserving of that same affection. Fresh tears gather in her eyes, already cresting from the height of her emotions and the clear instructions she hears in Safrin's words. Her throat tightens, chin trembling as her blue eyes find the goddess. "I'll be better." She wishes it were a declaration full of war and determination, a powerful proclamation of improvement and unwavering strength - but it's strained and wanting, warbling as a plea that begs forgiveness for her faults, colored with desperation to be a worthy daughter.
Nova
is the most rare and beautiful of all.
