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Ｍｏｕｒｎｉｎｇ
⊱━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━⊰ ✧ ⊱━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━⊰
She heard the voices in her head day in and day out. Whispers of how she was an anomaly; a violation of nature itself.
How they considered sacrificing her to the Gods so that perhaps the deaths of Clanmates would cease. She was thought to be a curse;
some kind of retribution for a misdeed her mother committed.
In the daylight Hawthorn never let the voices bother her, holding herself tall and strong for the sake of those who relied upon her,
but as the blue moon rose high in the sky, it brought with it the emotions of a young girl hidden beneath the smiling mask of a hero.
Her eyes flooded with tears, an ache in her throat that tore through in the form of sorrowful vocalisations.
Gentle sobs and shuddering shoulders, a stumble to the floor of her temple and a crumble of her legs beneath her.
She fell with a hard yelp, only to let out more tears as the memories swirled in a sickening torrent of red and grey. Memories of her clanmates’ mangled bodies, her mother and her father…
She lurched forward, an acidic flavour in her mouth. She clamped a hand over her mouth as she forced herself to stop thinking about that.
Her hands left her trembling lips as she managed to calm her emotions, raking her bandaged hands through her untameable hair.
Lonely. Even despite all of her allies of nature, she was so lonely. The sole Doe left in The Wildlands, she craved friendship & affection, but was too shy and stubborn to admit it.
She sniffled as her crying fit settled, large ears settling from their flicking and twitching to a gentle hang. There was no shame in crying. Surely they sensed her sorrow.
Thorn let out a shuddering sigh as she lowered her arm, mending her loosened bandage with a series of soft sniffles.
As her fingers worked, she reminded herself of the facts: She was an orphan, an anomaly, perhaps even a curse, but she was the only one who could stand against the beasts that wanted to tear the world asunder.
She had a duty, a responsibility, and she’d taken it on willfully.
Why? She didn’t know. But those little eyes of critters that looked up to her, the groan of trees that protected her, the wild wind that guided and confused her...that was why.
There were things worth protecting in the world. Despite Hawthorn having every right to hate, she refused to. That strength protected her from being one of those shadowy beasts.
She refused to hate. She would grow and continue to grow. She tugged the bandage tightly shut, perhaps a touch harder than she intended, and wiped her damp cheeks clean with shaking fingers.
Mourning was over, morning was near.
⊱━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━⊰ ✧ ⊱━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━⊰
✎ ART BY: KARDIE | HAWTHORN © HAWTHORN./NEMUI.Category Artwork (Digital) / Fantasy
Species Cervine (Other)
Size 907 x 1280px
File Size 142.1 kB
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