#I don't care if this ask is as old as the Titanic yOU GOTTA SUFFER

[catleha]

 @hyethla asked: falls asleep on her desk aka a depressing drabble nobody asked for.

  ‹  THERE WAS A SOFTNESS INSIDE HER; oft disregarded, set aside as if meant to fade & wither. Sparsely had she openly shown signs of a more mellow composure, something beyond the rough demeanor of a hardened scholar raised in a cave; ‘twould seem she was someone oh so in love with chiding words & a certain scorn, following in old matron’s footsteps oh so indignantly. Yet sometimes one could not help but surrender; a blink, a mere string of syllables muttered underneath her very breath: requesting help, leaning onto a dear friend’s shoulder. Oh, such moments were rare & brilliant in their subtlety -- clandestine, softest palm set against pugilist's very arm to express concern / an embrace shared with her dear astrologist after being saved from ash & cinder -- prone to bursts of compassion, expressed in her very peculiar way; admitting defeat, mourning the loss of so much / seemingly so little. 

      Oh, only two have ever borne witness to a more mild-mannered side; an astronomer, ever so delicately building the most unlikely camaraderie forged midst a raging forest fire & the desire to find someone to confide in. A healer, just like she once had been with a gift, however, not blighted by crude persona / whatever darkness dwelt within. -- why, Urianger’s very words never ceased to remedy what own doubt tempted to tear apart. The second was someone regarded with mayhaps a bit too much cordiality -- Lyse, an even more unlikely companion; pondering day & night about her whereabouts & well-being, as if one’s very existence was enough to threaten the lives of those she had chosen to love. What else could one of her kind do but worry, those that had died had mainly been hers to doom. -- perhaps that had been the sole reason for their unlikely bond; the agony felt over the loss of another. && through one would have never admitted anything similar: both, Papalymo & Minfilia had left a hole, a gaping void; ‘twas only herself she ought to blame for the demise of the latter. 

         Now & forevermore, it seemed.

      Memories oft lingered on that very day; seething light, own voice drowned by the very rumble heard above. -- flow. Oh, had she but known the repercussions of that wretched spell. Had she but known that next to the rogue she ought to save, yet another had been cast into the lifestream only to be grasped & used. Lost & forlorn, too far beyond an archon’s reach. && upon awakening, upon being torn out of a dreamless slumber, what numbness had overcome heart & soul both? This foreboding sentiment of something sinister / this excruciating feeling of uncertainty? Something had not been quite right, something no longer in place. -- pray, recall the anxiety / the panic / the paralyzing realization that one had PAID; for what, she could not tell alas alas, now she knew. 

    Blind eyes could not decipher the details of her unwelcomed guest's clothes, hair or stature, could not determine what the child’s motives had been ere drifting off. Yet ears could decipher a quiet little ‘snore’; most gentle breath, the minuscule rustle of accessories dragged across the wooden surface. The girl had most likely exhausted herself, had studied whatever ancient tome she had wagered to haul onto the sage’s own desk. -- inclined to sort papers & parchments, trying so desperately to be of use. For but a moment, a witch would remain, scorched gander cast above the oracle’s very head; drifting, yet again in keepsakes long forgotten. Aye, ‘twas a familiar sight. Yet in her memories ‘twas a woman hunched over her desk, asleep with her face resting upon latest paperwork; remember: usually beatific features twisted into some somber mien, with brows furrowed & petite wrinkles there to cast drab shadows across an otherwise juvenile visage. Never had younger self dared to disturb; why, the antecedent had had a tendency to hardly rest; not before all work was done. Always laboring, quarreling, intermingling. -- ears twitch, lids flutter. Remember, remember: you have been acquaintances, comrades, fellow scions bound by the will to protect & serve a greater good.

     Alas upon rogue & oracle’s arrival, there had been no love for a child bearing the name Minfilia of the First, no recollection, no merry moment meant to prompt some heartfelt reunion. Adamant & unforgiving, had MASTER MATOYA not but turned on her very heel, solemnly cursing what dear friends had dragged into her lair. What was this thing but a pawn cast out of Hydalyn’s maw; a mere trick, a carbon copy meant to manipulate & deceive. A common cause meant to anchor them to this wretched world. Torture! Naught but a crude joke with an aether as bright as the First’s original sin. -- & yet times had changed; here a girl oh so eager to please, to see the good in people, to be seen as someone else. 

     Seconds pass, ticking on & on ‘till craned neck grew stiff. ‘twas a cruel sentiment, destiny’s bitter hand dealt & taken. A curse, a horrid quip; an ache so palpable she could not ignore it no matter how much one attempted; to bury it alongside former self / to adjust & cease to trace the scar deeply craved into her very chest. Naught but a spectre, chained to the sins of yesteryear. -- what are you, if not a woman turned stone to bear & bear forevermore for the sake of those you have learned to love more than your very self? Again & again predestined to sacrifice yourself ‘till final breath would leave parted lips. Brushing loss aside akin to a common bruise. Predestined to stand tall, to be the voice of wisdom, of reason, of strength found in the most sullen of nights; to pave the way for THEIR WARRIOR OF LIGHT. && never falter, never break for those they could yet save.  -- o, all this came over her in this very moment, haunting, clawing at her very heart. All this & more, all this & ceaseless worry / guilt / most bitter regret. An old, bleeding wound; a knife stuck / grown between her ribs torn out by a girl who was as innocent as she was guilty.

     There, a witch moves, slender hand reaching for the very cloak she never forgot to don. A gallant motion dispatched that tattered thing ere yet another followed aether sight’s guiding hand. Clumsily would she drape the cloth over other’s slumbering body, her shoal glimmer briskly brightening an otherwise blackened field of vision before vanishing ever so slightly. 

     Lo, a witch moves once more / freed from prior stupor, eager to continue the same evening routine [ever sleepless]. Fleeing her study, eloping into the sheltering night. To not return ‘till Urianger would wake the oracle in the morrow, parting ways with the Night’s Blessed sage once more. Without a word, without a second glance; running, hiding [hypocrite] midst whispering winds & roots & everything wild; to again permit herself a moment of solitude / weakness, to allow frenzied mind to return to its former work. -- turning to stone whilst ears listened to the soft buzzing of the Greatwood’s nocturnal life.