i am a leaf on the wind

She always wanted to know what stories the trees could tell. They lived so long, saw so much, and much have so much to say. Once, she could hear the whispers of the wind in the trees, and wondered if perhaps the wind and the trees were conversing. She’d never heard words necessarily, or full sentences, but could sometimes get flashes of emotion. Now, with her powers stripped, her imagination is the only thing that she can hear when the breeze rustles in the trees. But still, she likes to come up with stories. Things these trees might know based on the scars on their trunks, the shape of their branches, the way they reach for the sun.

The forest has always been her favorite place, when not in the sky. It is comfortable, the trees like sentries against danger, the branches like a friends pat on the back. She’s so lost in her thoughts that she doesn’t even notice him at first. She’s too busy thinking about Apollo, thinking about her brother, about her family. The rubies in the bottom on the pool remind her of her families blood (she likes to imagine it spilled out of them like rubies, it is an easier vision to stomach), and of the kindness Apollo had shown her so early in her time here.

What an odd combination of memories. Murder and kindness together. Death alone perhaps could be kind, but her family’s murder was far from it. She shakes her head, a breeze bringing with it a slightly new scent, finally ripping her from her thoughts. Stupid, she thinks. This is how bad things happen, when you aren’t paying attention. It’s Corbin’s voice that chides her; her brother often chided her for getting lost in her thoughts.

She looks up only to find that the newcomer is also simply staring back, like neither one of them had really expected to find anyone else. Her nerves ease slightly, though he is still taller than her, and perhaps stronger. But mostly, she’s struck by his appearance, like someone stretched a cloth tight across his bones. He shimmers slightly where the sun hits him, looking rather like the wind could blow him away. Though she suspects that’s not really the case at all. He’s different than anything she’s seen here so far, though beautiful in a very delicate way. Which she finds a strange way to describe a male, but still, there’s no other words for it.

“Hello,” she offers, voice friendly and light, having decided it’s probably unlikely he means her any harm. “I’m Lyanna.”

watch how i soar.

lyanna