vi. nightbloom.

                                    

                                          

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‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐀 𝐓𝐔𝐆 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄.
‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎It's as if her creature bound her with thick cabled cord, strangling her limbs and turning her into a puppet on a string. The sun hardly strikes the horizon, and yet Elowen's creature desires to move.
‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎She swings out of the bed, her heart beating a mile a minute within her chest. Her wings flutter, evidence of her creature's delight. It's an unknown anticipation that she can't seem to end.
‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Stop it, Elowen tries to send the message down to her creature, who defies her orders and refuses to listen. 
‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Instead, her creature sends one message back to her, a specific location: the sanctum.
‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎It's not often that Elowen and her creature disagree. Her creature is quite content to do what Elowen does—that is until now. At the twilight hour, when Elowen stretches her wings and conducts small test flights from balcony to balcony, her creature argues with her, begging for her to stay in Tabrien. It's a nightly quarrel she finds herself in. Her creature has grown clingy to this place, and it's pulling the two parts of her in half. Tabrien isn't her home. It never was, and it never will be.
‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Still, her creature whispers in that delicate little voice: the sanctum.
‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen instead pushes towards the balcony. By now, the sun reaches above the forests, high enough in the heavens that the light scathes Elowen's skin. Although she holds a determination to leave, she adores the warmth of Tabrien, something so unlike the highlands of Reovell and the borders of Brecia where she hid for years.
‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen flaps her wings, keeping her eyes on the forests in the far distance. She will find a way out of Tabrien, despite the disagreement of her creature. The only way to do that is to take the route most were can't take: the sky. Tonight, she vows to do a test flight.
‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎But first, she must suffice her creature's persistent demands.
‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Gods, I despise you sometimes," she hisses out loud to herself, marching back off the balcony and into her washroom.
‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎She washes up with haste, braiding her maroon hair back and slipping into a silk thin strapped dress, one with a low enough back for her wings. Much like every other article of clothing the were provide, she feels inexcusably oafish.
‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎From there, her creature takes full control of her limbs. Every step towards the sanctum becomes instinct, a sixth sense to locate what's causing her creature's persistence. 
‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"... if we can persuade the fae." A voice finishes speaking as Elowen meets the sanctum doors. "King Novus and my father never got along, so I reckon they'll try to spear my fucking head on sight."