Amalia
Breathe in. Breathe out.
She has never been afraid of heights - only what lies at the bottom of them, far below her feet. The higher she flies the further the fall, and the only way to escape is to keep ascending. Feet on the precipice, slipping on stones, bare and breaking beneath her weight as she scrambles to adhere to the unyielding face of a mountain which has no end--
This is the way Amalia feels as she stares down at the surging sea, where bone-crashing waves threaten to reduce even the strongest of lives to dust.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
She has been meditating more, practicing her breathing, trying to bring stillness and calm to the one thing she can control: herself. Jyoti helps as she always does, the whale a stalwart companion through tumultuous times, resting now between Amalia's paws as the leopardess looks out over the sea. It is nearly sunset, the time at which the girl might have gone to sleep another lifetime ago- but that was long ago. Now she does not sleep so much, her body naturally regenerative and strong. Now she can watch the stars rise over the lip of the world, and not long after the sun chase them away, and only nap between.
Breathe in...
She sits in leopard form because it is the way she feels most at home, tail wrapped around her body, back held straight, eyes drawn shut. A rumbled purr leaves her body with every deep exhale, the bass line for Jyoti's melancholy, hauntingly beautiful song of stars. Together they sing a melody indecipherable to anyone but them. Together they wait for the last of the daylight to fade, two displaced figures who aren't afraid of heights, only of falling without any way to stop their descent.
...breathe out.
She has never been afraid of heights - only what lies at the bottom of them, far below her feet. The higher she flies the further the fall, and the only way to escape is to keep ascending. Feet on the precipice, slipping on stones, bare and breaking beneath her weight as she scrambles to adhere to the unyielding face of a mountain which has no end--
This is the way Amalia feels as she stares down at the surging sea, where bone-crashing waves threaten to reduce even the strongest of lives to dust.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
She has been meditating more, practicing her breathing, trying to bring stillness and calm to the one thing she can control: herself. Jyoti helps as she always does, the whale a stalwart companion through tumultuous times, resting now between Amalia's paws as the leopardess looks out over the sea. It is nearly sunset, the time at which the girl might have gone to sleep another lifetime ago- but that was long ago. Now she does not sleep so much, her body naturally regenerative and strong. Now she can watch the stars rise over the lip of the world, and not long after the sun chase them away, and only nap between.
Breathe in...
She sits in leopard form because it is the way she feels most at home, tail wrapped around her body, back held straight, eyes drawn shut. A rumbled purr leaves her body with every deep exhale, the bass line for Jyoti's melancholy, hauntingly beautiful song of stars. Together they sing a melody indecipherable to anyone but them. Together they wait for the last of the daylight to fade, two displaced figures who aren't afraid of heights, only of falling without any way to stop their descent.
...breathe out.
