frostspires;
|
her heaven is only half alive
i fell asleep in his, but he could not breathe in mine
Here stood perhaps the largest thing Jendayi had ever seen. Its massive spire unfurled into the sky and almost touched the clouds, and perhaps Jendayi would have sought to climb it, if its sides weren’t so steep and icy. There were no stairs, no footholds she could use even after long moments of searching. What wanderlust compelled the fragile woman to want to seek the sky was something, perhaps, tied back to her roots—those of which she tried to forget, but could not deny their blissful surrender every now and then. Yet, she was fettered to the ground, and her neck had long soon begun to ache tracing her golden gaze upon its pristine peaks. It looked not built by nature, but by the Gods—some unspoken entity that spoke true of the spirits she once believed in, and so often rekindled her abandoned beliefs. Jendayi could not deny herself—she still knew her spirits existed, and she found herself often praying to them even when she did not mean to, but far too short had she left behind her home in favor of her insatiable curiosities. Subjected was she to her own self-inflicted punishment, and with it came the heavy weight that she was still fickle enough to sway her beliefs yet still. Eventually, she pried her eyes from the massive stone monument and instead looked at the sea beyond. The sky was clear and sunny, and while a small flurry was brought from the mountainpeaks in the distance, it was not enough to spurn a cold chill. She was able to see far past the icy ocean toward its horizon, where the deep blue met the pale sky. The sun was high above, creating a light with thin and short shadows, blisteringly bright given all the darkness shrouding the north. The winter had been unkind, but now at its northermost point, Jendayi had the relief of seeing a blissful emptiness. It was breathtaking. Behind her stood the massive glaciers and their rocky counterparts, and nestled in their valleys the long-frozen lake. Its illumination from the sun seemed only to reflect off the pure-white mountains, and created an almost blinding spotlight against the south-facing side of the spire. Each time she looked upon it, she had to squint in order to see. This, she realized, is what she had abandoned her old life for. It was worth it. |