[ In she comes, about to ask all the usual questions about how she is, how her last few days had been. All sorts of typical nothings to talk about.
Thinks there the purpose is otherwise though, when Ianthe immediately turns her towards the bedroom - ] Ianthe, let me take my shoes off at least before we -
[ And then she sees it, and then she stops.
It was like the air was stolen out of her lungs. Her heart going so still, so quiet, it was like she could not hear it at all, but oh, could she feel it, as she looked across the painted sea over the wall.
Her breath stuck, swallowing down as she stepped away from Ianthe's hold, towards it. Her fingers lifted like she went to greet that painting as if it were real, as if it were an old friend. So utterly, and completely entranced for one moment, so beyond herself.
She lays one hand against it, finding it only to be the wood of the wall that stands as the canvas, but she hardly cared. So without the sight of waves for so long, even just to see it in a painting, for a moment, is balm on her heart. The tears hitch, leaking at the edge of her eyes as she leans her forehead to the wall, as if she could tip herself through it directly into those waiting waves as she just breathes there, she just holds and looks at the delicately painted white-tipped waves and imagines the sound, she brushes the sand of the shore, and remembers the feeling of the grain between her feelings that had seemed to fade over the weeks away. ]
Hello, my Great-Father. [ She whispers as a child does their prayers, knowing it is not the same, not even caring that Ianthe sees her like this. This raw, profound emptiness that for a moment is so exposed, this ancient, sacred longing that left a pit in her over the months here now that spills from her lips. Her faith so absolute, and her love is pure to it. ] Sea-Father, Land-Mother, one of your children is here, She Who Sings the Ocean to Prosperity. I am sorry, I am so sorry, that I have been away, to be so far from your glory and give of sacrifice in your honour. But I pray to you still, Holy-Father, I hope you hear me, even so far away. I go to the lakes, and the wells, I give my bread and my flowers to these lesser depths that they may find you. I have your dreams, and hope that means you know me still - all my hope I have. Least amongst your children, I ask only that you remember me one day, to please do not forget me, when I return and grant me place still in your realm as your servant.
[ Her eyes close as she says the prayers she has said nightly since she arrived, turning her cheek into the wood, the tears spilling hot on her face but she does not care as she holds herself against that image for all it means to her. ]
no subject
Thinks there the purpose is otherwise though, when Ianthe immediately turns her towards the bedroom - ] Ianthe, let me take my shoes off at least before we -
[ And then she sees it, and then she stops.
It was like the air was stolen out of her lungs. Her heart going so still, so quiet, it was like she could not hear it at all, but oh, could she feel it, as she looked across the painted sea over the wall.
Her breath stuck, swallowing down as she stepped away from Ianthe's hold, towards it. Her fingers lifted like she went to greet that painting as if it were real, as if it were an old friend. So utterly, and completely entranced for one moment, so beyond herself.
She lays one hand against it, finding it only to be the wood of the wall that stands as the canvas, but she hardly cared. So without the sight of waves for so long, even just to see it in a painting, for a moment, is balm on her heart. The tears hitch, leaking at the edge of her eyes as she leans her forehead to the wall, as if she could tip herself through it directly into those waiting waves as she just breathes there, she just holds and looks at the delicately painted white-tipped waves and imagines the sound, she brushes the sand of the shore, and remembers the feeling of the grain between her feelings that had seemed to fade over the weeks away. ]
Hello, my Great-Father. [ She whispers as a child does their prayers, knowing it is not the same, not even caring that Ianthe sees her like this. This raw, profound emptiness that for a moment is so exposed, this ancient, sacred longing that left a pit in her over the months here now that spills from her lips. Her faith so absolute, and her love is pure to it. ] Sea-Father, Land-Mother, one of your children is here, She Who Sings the Ocean to Prosperity. I am sorry, I am so sorry, that I have been away, to be so far from your glory and give of sacrifice in your honour. But I pray to you still, Holy-Father, I hope you hear me, even so far away. I go to the lakes, and the wells, I give my bread and my flowers to these lesser depths that they may find you. I have your dreams, and hope that means you know me still - all my hope I have. Least amongst your children, I ask only that you remember me one day, to please do not forget me, when I return and grant me place still in your realm as your servant.
[ Her eyes close as she says the prayers she has said nightly since she arrived, turning her cheek into the wood, the tears spilling hot on her face but she does not care as she holds herself against that image for all it means to her. ]