The truth runs wild

Like a tear down a cheek

The obsidian rocks gleamed through the veins of blue, smoldering lava, dripping down the volcano in slow moaning. Maren watched the flow, mentally preparing herself to wait. She listened to the sea, the wind the mountain in the far, listened to the ashes fall to the ground; but she did not have to wait long at all, for from nowhere — from everywhere, but mostly from the cliff-side, he emerged. The sea and earth both cringed into something; a form. He had found Himself a body, something physical and mortal-looking, yet there was something so obviously godly staring her right in the eyes. Yet could not put her hoof on what it exactly made him seem so ethereal. She was, however, sure he had to be the only god who could pull off the blanket of mud in such an enchanting way.  

"God of the Earth — Goodday", she hastily noted. She dipped her head, turned her golden, dazzled eyes to the ground and bowed in appreciation for his arrival. His earthly aura pressed on her simplistic mortality, while at the same time the fresh aroma of a mixture between wet earth, blossoms with a hint of rain-forest lingered around them. “And so you have returned,” He spoke in kind words. Maren looked up again and smiled as she saw him rest his enormous wings at his enormous sides. As his enormous head drew closer it didn’t feel like he was encasing her lithe frame underneath his shadow, was more like he was simply sheltering it. When he asked what she had learned, she felt hesitant at first, remembering the easier tasks of feeling, hearing and smelling and comparing them to the days that she had been blind. Those which had come close to being the hardest days of her life.

Her gaze trailed off as she pondered on the words to describe what she had been taught, her eyes drifting farther along with the wakes that was her sea of thoughts. She had not realized with every one of the senses that she had been indeed sensing them, yet she was reminded of them now — and she surely would for time to come. For instance, she had felt the blood of a False God trail her skin with its biting kiss. She had listened to the desperate howling of another False God’s ripping words and, in her darkest hour, forged by sickness she had smelled the fumes of chaos.  

But then, the first day that she had been blind, she had immediately found herself upon someone from the Rift. As if it was meant to be, for, coincidentally, that  had so perfectly portrayed the desperation, the helplessness she had already felt towards them before; an omen for the world that only she was aware of; only she could see. Before, it had been the rest of the world that had been blinded. Yet, this time, she too — and never would she know what the girl looked like that she had cursed to live someplace she wasn't meant to be.  

The second day she had met Erthë, the poor girl who had been a victim of the Gods’ battles. Even though Maren had attempted to reject the connection she had felt with the daughter of Shadow at first, there had been one nonetheless. And it was more than just agony she’d felt when she couldn’t even see what had happened to her, what they had done — even through her desperation, Maren couldn’t even confirm for herself that she was really alright… and, in the entire dictionary of feelings that she could’ve felt, that must have been the absolute worst one.  

Then, the third and final day, she had met with a company and had discussed her favorite subject: tea, something she loved so dearly and enjoyed speaking about very much... However, she had not been able to put Erthë completely of her mind. Had not been able to put her aching heart at rest and, instead, had only longed for herself to be back in her mountain home. Such nostalgic feelings only boiled up to the surface on days that she felt the most sad of all... and that day she’d decided how she had had enough.   

“I must say, hearing, smell and touch were not hard to understand once they were stimulated. Although in my case they all came from a place of agony, whether that was merely coincidental or not, were harmful, yet, when it was over it did not eat at me, the pain made me feel more powerful in the end,” she attempted to mark her analysis in words. “Like I could handle them, would they ever come again.”

“Those days of being blind” She swallowed. Her tone had changed from nonchalant to one framed by uncertainty. As if next to those words the actual feelings of a time past remained and floated along in the same rhythm, yet unseen. But it was as if she felt them drifting there.  “Those were different. I had grown more aware of how my other senses worked. With that knowledge and some handy wing-work I managed to get around just fine… in a way. But it was hard,” she swallowed again, trying to find words what was so hard then? Trying to find the answer at the same time; A shameful answer, probably, and she didn’t want to give in to the truth, but she saw that there was no choice if she truly wished for herself to understand. To learn. “It was hard being cut off from the world by sight. I didn’t realize that at first, it felt so insignificant in the beginning; not being able to see, for I could still sense all this other stuff. But hearing the world around you move as you are in this static bubble where you can feel everything else move, you know it, yet at the same time you are unable to know, to be truly aware, because you can’t confirm anything.” Or at least that was how it felt for her. Stagnant. Always stagnant. Things didn’t matter anymore in those days. It was being blinded by a disability to do basic things. “The only thing you see is how fragile you are, how every tree I touched was just another part of an endless labyrinth.” She attempted to describe. “Meeting with those I felt connected to but wasn’t able to see truly ate at me. And, now that it is over, I don’t feel more powerful at all.” A frown crowned her eyes as they had wandered around the cliff-side, now resting at the God of the Eart. Her exotic voice that had drawn a slight more emotional side of her, now slowly easing once more. “If anything... “ she continued, slowly. “I feel more fragile than ever.” Birds started to chirp behind her, ashes still fell. “... and knowing that I could make someone else feel like that — I am thankful that you’ve shown me.”  



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