Weep
Cry
Mourn
Life to Death
Death to Rebirth
Quacey sighed as he reread his most recent poem. Morbid. It was too morbid. Was he still shaken from before? Memories of that event still danced in and out of his dreams. Both the waking ones and those while asleep. So much had happened in such a short span. Emotions long held at bay had broken through. His will of stone turned into sand.
He shut his journal. That did not feel accurate to his poem. Not fully. In moments like these it was best to not thinking over it too much. Thoughts could lead to creativity and joy or they could be what reaped them away.
A fae village in the Autumn court near the border was where he currently found himself. Those sensations, those feelings, had brought him here. He had planted himself in the village's only inn and tavern and then they stopped. That didn't mean he was done with them. It only meant he was suppose to wait for reasons he might never know.
So the duanann just sat reading and listening to the locals chat amongst themselves or held a friendly conversation with the ones who approached him. They were glad of a guest to liven up things and he was glad they respected his privacy. How would he explain his presence to them in a believable fashion? They were unlikely to and just assume he was a spy from another court. That was a more plausible outcome than him being here because some ethereal force had told him to wait here for someone to come along or something to happen that would explain it.
Ophelia Eärtári
Cry
Mourn
Life to Death
Death to Rebirth
Quacey sighed as he reread his most recent poem. Morbid. It was too morbid. Was he still shaken from before? Memories of that event still danced in and out of his dreams. Both the waking ones and those while asleep. So much had happened in such a short span. Emotions long held at bay had broken through. His will of stone turned into sand.
He shut his journal. That did not feel accurate to his poem. Not fully. In moments like these it was best to not thinking over it too much. Thoughts could lead to creativity and joy or they could be what reaped them away.
A fae village in the Autumn court near the border was where he currently found himself. Those sensations, those feelings, had brought him here. He had planted himself in the village's only inn and tavern and then they stopped. That didn't mean he was done with them. It only meant he was suppose to wait for reasons he might never know.
So the duanann just sat reading and listening to the locals chat amongst themselves or held a friendly conversation with the ones who approached him. They were glad of a guest to liven up things and he was glad they respected his privacy. How would he explain his presence to them in a believable fashion? They were unlikely to and just assume he was a spy from another court. That was a more plausible outcome than him being here because some ethereal force had told him to wait here for someone to come along or something to happen that would explain it.
Ophelia Eärtári