tell me about it

*Fern* · 04-19-2022, 07:15 PM

There is something about being here in the garden with Latea and Mel, somehting about giving voice to her deepest, darkest fears that frightens Fern. These are supposed to be her burdens to carry alone; to cry about when one is looking. And yet, the moment she opens her mouth to share her emotional, halting words, a weight feels like it is beginning to lift. Latea’s voice is soft as silk and smooth as honey, gently assuring her that this is not a dream and, in spite of everything she is feeling, her lips curl upward in a small smile. The monochrome woman’s ruby gaze is soft and loving, something in them reminding the sad girl of days long past, when she would cry about the injustices of the world to her mother, Meadow. She remembers the tender way Meadow would wrap her legs around her small frame, holding the young Fern while silently listening to every word that passed the pup’s lips. And her eyes…

Fern gives herself a mental shake as the caring, sympathetic look that Latea gives her reminds the girl of the gentle, motherly figure she misses. The tears come and panic settles over her as she begins to hyperventilate, Mel’s worried voice telling her to take deep breathes not quite registering in her mind. The world spins away, the need to escape is overwhelming her; until she feels a gentle paw come to rest on top of own. It grounds Fern; the touch a reminder that she is not alone chasing away the fear. Slowly, her eyes track over to the paw, following it up until she finds that loving ruby gaze again. Taking several deep breathes, she feels her breathing even out as Latea soothes the panicked girl. She hangs on every word, the acknowledgement of her pain is, somehow, more cathartic then Fern ever imagined possible. Latea sees her, recognizes the girl’s painful past and still accepts her.

Tears prick the corners of Fern’s eyes again but for an entirely different reason this time. She listens intently to every word and, when Latea’s voice stops, Fern finds herself wishing she could hear more. Her gaze falls down to her own pale paws as she ponders the feelings that swirl inside and what Latea has said; the silent introspection she has dreaded for so long is finally happening. Emotions pass across her face; sadness, anger, acceptance, longing all making appearances. Finally, she releases a deep sigh, once more meeting Latea’s kind eyes as Fern admits, “I have spent so long angry at my mother for getting herself killed. I watched her from a hiding spot as she picked herbs in field. She… had wandered too far from the others and, when that tiger attacked…” Eyes suddenly squeeze shut in an attempt to ward off the vivid, gory memories that always appear. Shaking her head, tears leaking out from her closed eyes, she chokes out, “I know it wasn’t her fault but… it hurt. I miss her so much Latea.”

Watery blue eyes make a reappearance as Fern looks to Latea, the sudden desire to share her whole story and be heard filling the girl. Swallowing, she gives a small sniff before continuing, “When I finally crawled out of my hiding spot three days later, the band we had tagged along with were gone. I had no one and… I was just so angry.” Shame fills her chest and she gives her gray head a shake, unable to fully voice the loathing she had for Meadow… and herself. Shoulders slump as she continues on, “There was one bright point for me. Mother had always told me, if anything went wrong, to seek out her sister Resin. That she would take care of me.” A small, sad smile appears as she says, “I held onto that hope through the dark nights and long, lonely days. It kept me going when I had no other reason to. I came to these lands during the long night and.. that is when I lost everything again. I realized I was just that scared pup hiding in the shadows as she watched her mother die again. I… never want to feel that way again.” Eyes fall to the ground as she waits to hear what Latea thinks of her now.

"Fern Lark"

Login
Username:
Password:	Lost Password?
	Remember me

tell me about it

fern

Fern