i am a leaf on the wind

That is the thing she so often forgets. To live is a blessing. To live is everything. She mourns her family every day, and in doing so, she does not live. But she must. If not for her (though it should be for her), for them. Because they cannot. Because their lives were cut unfairly short. Because for some reason, the gods above (whoever they were exactly, the gods here are not the ones she once knew) decided to let her live.

It seems like too tall an order, if she really thinks about it. Too tall an order to live when others die. Too tall an order to make something of herself when she was never born to be anything but a puppet. She no longer has to be a puppet. No longer has to pretend to love because it forms an alliance. No longer has to go where she is told or say what she is told or be anyone but herself.

It is too much to be herself. She doesn’t even know who she is. No one ever gave her the chance to find out.

Though she is learning. She is kinder than she thought, more forgiving when it comes to others than her family. She enjoys healing, and she enjoys wandering (she leaves the Edge now more because it is pleasant to fly than because she doesn’t know what else to do), and she will always be missing a part of her soul without the wind. She cannot replace her family, cannot truly replace her powers, but she can try to move on.

Today, she’s simply gone for a flight. No particular reason behind it, other than it was an exceptionally lovely evening and sometimes it was fun to fly into the sunset. Sometimes she likes to pretend she can reach those colors, can paint herself in the rainbow of the sunset. There are times she has tried, but with no more success than chasing the ghosts of her path.

The sea glistens a sunset kaleidoscope back at her as she passes over the beach. Not a place she frequents often, but one she has passed numerous times. She’s grown familiar with the landscape, but still, she finds herself dipping closer, getting to know it just a bit better.But it’s not the endless sea or the crashing waves of the enormous setting sun that catches her eye. It’s a stallion with a blue horn and a cat on his back.

Oh.

She’s begun to believe she would never see him again, that their meeting was nothing more than chance. That maybe he’d simply been a gift sent by the gods to remind her that life was worth living. But no, he’s really here. Really in front of her. She can’t help but glance down at the ruby that now hangs from a gold chain around her neck, feeling almost sheepish for it. But it seemed such a waste of a perfectly good ruby not to wear it. And besides, she enjoyed the reminder of its giver.

She lands some distance away, closing the space between then on foot and with a nicker, so as not to startle him or Zola. “Apollo,” she says, her voice soft in the dying light. It seemed wrong to speak loudly, as if she might somehow disturb the natural progress of the world of the beauty of the moment. Not that she could ever have such great an impact on anything. “It’s good to see you.”

watch how i soar.

lyanna