“Once you have tasted flight, you will forever walk the earth with your eyes turned skyward, for there you have been, and there you will always long to return.”
― Leonardo da Vinci I lead Hertz to the sea, towards one of the murder trees that had sprung up when the murderer was uncovered. It needed to be preserved, the memory of the child's soul kept alive, so that none may forget the horror of the Moon Goddess's work. I stand before the tree, looking up at the branches. Such senseless death. Yet, I supposed the Moon Goddess thought it was justified. I turn to look at Hertz, ears pricking. "Do you want to carry the clipping?" I ask, looking back at the tree, my wing draping over my son's back, pulling him a little closer. This had been someone's daughter... someone's sister, someone's friend. Out of all the plant life, I hoped others had the same idea to save clippings of these trees, to preserve the memories of the fallen. Memory needed to be preserved, honored, for truly all we had of the dead were our memories. @[Hertz] Hertz and Buce, free to crash! "Bucephalus speaks" "Altan speaks" |
Image by Aud
Coding by Tamme
Pixel by Aud