All your life, did you know /
you'd be picked like a rose.ᐣ
(Name) is full of contradictions. She is dreamy, yet decisive. Eccentric, yet charming. Ambitious, yet secretive. Confident, yet conflicted. Gentle, yet strong-willed. However, maybe the mo...
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‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♡ ༻ ‿̩͙‿
After not sleeping in her own bedroom for over a month and a half, it's no wonder (Name) wakes up as disoriented as a broken compass, her thoughts and musings feeling like they've been simultaneously scrambled and concocted inside a hot pot.
A square of sunlight pours through the window and bathes the girl lying on the bed in a golden glow. (Name) squints against the light, shoving her face onto her pillow until she remembers exactly where she is.
It's a few seconds until she registers the spaciousness of her king-sized bed, the vines coiling themselves around the ceiling, the vanity encompassed in pink tulips and festive lightbulbs, her defective gramophone, her massive, carnivorous plant that looks like a cross between a Venus Flytrap and an avocado, and the sound of cogs and gears of The Maw as it moves across the prairies.
Ah, that's right, she's back home.
The witch girl draws back the blankets and rises from the soft mattress that has so carefully held her form while she sleeps. Her feet feel strange on the cold wooden floor. It feels quiet and empty, lonely and still. (Name) exhales slowly.
These feelings-they've been haunting her ever since the Hunter Exam. It's as if a fragment of her soul has been chipped away and consumed by the sky. Don't mistake her, she's elated to be back home, but it feels as if something dear to her is missing. She worries that whatever that piece is, it doesn't lay somewhere, but rather, in someone.
She turns to look at the sunrise beyond the glass of the window, shedding its soft gaze upon the waters beyond the island. Driven to it, she moves near it.
Beyond the fog of the early morning, (Name) glimpses the grace of the coast and its dreaded sea. She sees the native birds of her homeland hovering above the ocean, waiting for the right time to dive in and catch their much-needed meal, as patient as the rocks by the beach.
Sensing movement from the corner of her eye, she swivels her head to stare at her massive plant, whose roots are slowly but gently coiling around her ankles in an attempt to offer comfort.
"Awe, Mandy" she sighs, smiling kindly at the oddly sentient being before prying her foot out of her hold to go and stroke one of its leaves, "thank you, but I'm not sad, even if I look like it."
As sincere as she might sound, there is an undertone of woe tainting the tune of her voice. Normally, her two gem-like eyes luster gently about the day, but today, they seem to reflect the somber hues of the dawn outside.
Lost in contemplation, she absentmindedly reaches for the antique, cracked mirror on her vanity. As her reflection stares back at her, she sees the weariness etched into her eyes-before a knock on her bedroom door startles her, causing her to shove the mirror back down.
