flowersong (iv)
Dec. 17th, 2009 10:26 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
nekokoban posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
synchronicalHer throat aches. It has for a long time, now, but she's ignored it for .. ah, for such. a long time now. She can barely remember when she started, only that she does, because to pay attention to that one thing would mean recognizing all the other terrible things that hurt inside of her, her heart and her head and her lungs.
Instead, she sings. She is the Songstress, the Dragonsinger, the girl whose entire being is devoted to the great beast who curls, forever unsleeping, in the dark parts of its cavern home. She sings because there is nothing else left inside of her: she's sung away her heart and her soul; her life isn't much more after that. She sings things that she can't remember ever learning, all words from a language she's never been taught, all flavored in blood.
Once upon a time, she knows, she had been someone else--she'd seen the sun directly, instead of watching it filter through small windows in the rock ceiling of the cavern. She'd had a name rather than a title; she'd spoken rather than sang. When she dreams (when she actually sleeps), there are pieces and fragments from that other life, all filtered through a hazy white veil. She takes these and translates them into songs for the dragon.
My love is a flower ...
My love is a flower.
My love is--
A song rises up in the hollow places within her breast, big and bright and warm. She thinks she could light the entire cavern with its force if she had but the skill to tap it. She does what she can, clasping her hands over her heart (slow dull leaden thing it is) and she sings. The dragon opens its yellow eyes and stares straight at her; it feels like being lanced through the chest, but she can't stop. Inside of her something is building and expanding and glowing, larger than her body can contain. All the places that have been drained and left hollow and bitter are filling up, spilling over, and she sings louder, faster, her eyes full of the sight of flowers and a single lovely smile.
Her song stops. The dragon's head is lifted, and it stares at her unblinkingly. She meets its gaze, and she thinks, Oh the things I have lost.
Meiko, she whispers into the growing dark.
Instead, she sings. She is the Songstress, the Dragonsinger, the girl whose entire being is devoted to the great beast who curls, forever unsleeping, in the dark parts of its cavern home. She sings because there is nothing else left inside of her: she's sung away her heart and her soul; her life isn't much more after that. She sings things that she can't remember ever learning, all words from a language she's never been taught, all flavored in blood.
Once upon a time, she knows, she had been someone else--she'd seen the sun directly, instead of watching it filter through small windows in the rock ceiling of the cavern. She'd had a name rather than a title; she'd spoken rather than sang. When she dreams (when she actually sleeps), there are pieces and fragments from that other life, all filtered through a hazy white veil. She takes these and translates them into songs for the dragon.
My love is a flower ...
My love is a flower.
My love is--
A song rises up in the hollow places within her breast, big and bright and warm. She thinks she could light the entire cavern with its force if she had but the skill to tap it. She does what she can, clasping her hands over her heart (slow dull leaden thing it is) and she sings. The dragon opens its yellow eyes and stares straight at her; it feels like being lanced through the chest, but she can't stop. Inside of her something is building and expanding and glowing, larger than her body can contain. All the places that have been drained and left hollow and bitter are filling up, spilling over, and she sings louder, faster, her eyes full of the sight of flowers and a single lovely smile.
Her song stops. The dragon's head is lifted, and it stares at her unblinkingly. She meets its gaze, and she thinks, Oh the things I have lost.
Meiko, she whispers into the growing dark.