The Living Should Live

*Resin* · 11-13-2021, 09:09 PM

Existence was a funny thing. It came and went and sometimes it came again. In one breath, Resin was dying and in the next, she was standing in the great hall of the castle, her singular golden eye looking into the crackling fire in the massive hearth. She didn't breathe because there was no need. Her body was still as mountains. Still as the very walls of the castle. From one of the large windows, moonlight filtered in, the combined lights from the sky sphere and the fireplace rendering the specter nearly invisible. The fae's blocky skull moved and she looked down at her thick, powerful legs. She was transparent. Not at all there. As she look down, Resin noted droplets falling onto the stone. The liquid looked like molten gold and appeared to be much more tangible than she was. Interesting.

Turning her head towards the doorway, the ash and obsidian fae's ears swiveled, catching the sound of moving paws. There was someone moving past the open doors. She waited to see who it might be. How long had she been gone? Time was a funny thing now. Were all of the wolves of The Hallows dead? All of the wolves that she knew? Her lover? Her children? Glancing again towards the fire, she was glad to at least see that some of her teachings had been carried along. A fire would always burn in the hearth. Always.

"Resin"

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The Living Should Live

Emile

Resin