01-22-2020, 08:21 PM
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[div style="width: 360px; font-family: palatino; color: #c48d85; text-align: left; padding-top: 15px; padding-left: 10px"]T͏O̴G͠ETH͏ER̕ ÁT̴ ̸T̕H̶E ST͏ART̶ O͏F̀ ̵TI̡M͏E
Once, there was a little wolf. Born to a large family, and one of a set of triplets, the pup knew nothing but the comforts of a pack. The wolf was a small pup, the runt of the three and for some reason, she never spoke a word.
For every goodbye the siblings murmured to their father on his travels, she never spoke. For her mother, who passed when she was terribly young, she never made a word for.
Once, there was a little wolf who was stolen from her family and shipped across the sea. Enemies who hated the fae, or enemies who hated her father... No one knew. There was a storm, and the little wolf found her father. But even then, she didn't say a word.
Once, there was a little fox. No one knew who she was born to. The truth was, she hadn't been born at all. A soul split from a whole. A piece. A fragment. Small and alone and afraid, left to her own devices.
The little fox could speak. But her voice was soft and her words never left in perfect succession. And like the little wolf, the fox found no words for every piece of her torn away. Because most of the time... A goodbye had never came.
The little fox was the echo of a cold, broken and bitter heart. Meant to hide away the feelings. And so there was a little fox who felt almost too much.
Once, there was a little fox who ran into a little wolf. Hard to say what happened the moment two minds intersected. A soul fragment looking for a piece to be a whole of. Once, there was a little fox and a little wolf.
Now, a little fox sits in the shadow of a library, with the same unmatched eyes as before. But she is not the same little fox because so much of her is actually the little wolf.
And the little vixen thinks. She wonders.
She'd begun sinking. Sinking and sinking. But though when you sink you should reach out, she'd begun to feel as though no one would take her paw anyway. She'd become a silent shadow. A silent shadow capable of speech, but she wondered. Would anyone notice the silence?
With a blink, her eyes shifted down on their own. A silver pendant rested on her chest. A simple but lovely necklace. The north star, styled like a compass. Well. Maybe someone would notice. Even if her voice never came out strong, or without stutter. She had a voice.
Should she work on that? No one seemed... Bothered by it... But her eyes lingered on the silver pendant, wondering.
[/td][/tr][/table]For every goodbye the siblings murmured to their father on his travels, she never spoke. For her mother, who passed when she was terribly young, she never made a word for.
Once, there was a little wolf who was stolen from her family and shipped across the sea. Enemies who hated the fae, or enemies who hated her father... No one knew. There was a storm, and the little wolf found her father. But even then, she didn't say a word.
Once, there was a little fox. No one knew who she was born to. The truth was, she hadn't been born at all. A soul split from a whole. A piece. A fragment. Small and alone and afraid, left to her own devices.
The little fox could speak. But her voice was soft and her words never left in perfect succession. And like the little wolf, the fox found no words for every piece of her torn away. Because most of the time... A goodbye had never came.
The little fox was the echo of a cold, broken and bitter heart. Meant to hide away the feelings. And so there was a little fox who felt almost too much.
Once, there was a little fox who ran into a little wolf. Hard to say what happened the moment two minds intersected. A soul fragment looking for a piece to be a whole of. Once, there was a little fox and a little wolf.
Now, a little fox sits in the shadow of a library, with the same unmatched eyes as before. But she is not the same little fox because so much of her is actually the little wolf.
And the little vixen thinks. She wonders.
She'd begun sinking. Sinking and sinking. But though when you sink you should reach out, she'd begun to feel as though no one would take her paw anyway. She'd become a silent shadow. A silent shadow capable of speech, but she wondered. Would anyone notice the silence?
With a blink, her eyes shifted down on their own. A silver pendant rested on her chest. A simple but lovely necklace. The north star, styled like a compass. Well. Maybe someone would notice. Even if her voice never came out strong, or without stutter. She had a voice.
Should she work on that? No one seemed... Bothered by it... But her eyes lingered on the silver pendant, wondering.
© MADI