all of me is damned. From earliest beginnings, my fate has been solitude- elegant solitude, elegant loneliness. I let it walk into me like a cathedral, down its isle- wedding bells sound in the secret place of my heart.
Phizarae had witnessed ravens previously, clever creations capable of much greater than people initially would assume. The birds were oftentimes affiliated with destruction and adverse omen which was a feasible theory when considering their ebony plumage and intake of carrion, but Phizarae regarded them differently.
She recalled a man she had faced years ago whose selection of comrade had been a white-necked raven, a division of Corvus unimportantly more petite than the standard with a lush scrap of ivory on its nape. The bird's capabilities had transcended Phizarae's expectations and she determined promptly that not all was what it resembled among the avians; they had capacities she never identified as plausible. Regardless of her subdued recognition, there was no delicate efflorescence in the expanse between her and them, only the astringent din of cawing and the flutter of unbridled wings.
They cared little for the girl which only highlighted the variance in their circumstances; she would be a shifting line of consciousness in their existence, but they would be a complete division in hers for they were one of the primary things she had observed since she was ripped from her semblance of normalcy and jostled onto a separate planet entirely.
That shifting line did not house empathy.
But there was a history behind everything she did... from her richly blanched style to her obsessive reflections of more foreboding and desolate things. She grasped what the natives thought of her, how they eluded her as if she brought an infectious plague, but she did not permit herself to be afflicted with the musings of strangers. The furthest thing the girl would ever do was transform or disguise herself - presentation, nature, or otherwise - in accordance with the company she kept. All of those she engaged with would meet and know the same Phizarae Ephereia, for no more than one single variant existed.
Marvel, pity, yearning, resentment... whatever it was, it pulled Phizarae copiously closer to the birds.
She recalled a man she had faced years ago whose selection of comrade had been a white-necked raven, a division of Corvus unimportantly more petite than the standard with a lush scrap of ivory on its nape. The bird's capabilities had transcended Phizarae's expectations and she determined promptly that not all was what it resembled among the avians; they had capacities she never identified as plausible. Regardless of her subdued recognition, there was no delicate efflorescence in the expanse between her and them, only the astringent din of cawing and the flutter of unbridled wings.
They cared little for the girl which only highlighted the variance in their circumstances; she would be a shifting line of consciousness in their existence, but they would be a complete division in hers for they were one of the primary things she had observed since she was ripped from her semblance of normalcy and jostled onto a separate planet entirely.
That shifting line did not house empathy.
But there was a history behind everything she did... from her richly blanched style to her obsessive reflections of more foreboding and desolate things. She grasped what the natives thought of her, how they eluded her as if she brought an infectious plague, but she did not permit herself to be afflicted with the musings of strangers. The furthest thing the girl would ever do was transform or disguise herself - presentation, nature, or otherwise - in accordance with the company she kept. All of those she engaged with would meet and know the same Phizarae Ephereia, for no more than one single variant existed.
Marvel, pity, yearning, resentment... whatever it was, it pulled Phizarae copiously closer to the birds.
"."
Phizarae
the winteress
