10-05-2018, 06:52 PM
Sometimes she was called a ghost.
Not because she was dead, mostly because no one ever seemed to realize she was there until she actually spoke. Syzygy liked to reason that maybe it was because no one could pronounce her name, and another, darker part of her suggested it was because she was known only to a few, and sometimes passed around as a story on the lips of disbelievers. In the public eye, she might have once laughed off the strange moniker and then returned to her own simple company to lament the nickname, wondering what happened in her formative years to make her seem so invisible. Now that being alone was her new normal, her steely disposition mutated so that she now wore her heart on her sleeve, a wretched condition of life she had mocked for so long prior. She was her own self-fulfilling prophecy, a phoenix who had not yet come to the apex of her flight because she was scared to get burnt. Syzygy still hadn't reached the peak of her life. At this point, she doubted she ever would.
The disbelievers were whispering now, having taken shape of the tall, hearty pine trees around her. They passed rumors from branch to branch, waving back and forth and asking one another if they had really seen that small brown tabby or if they were just imagining things. Syzygy heard them all and noted all their remarks but hardly had the energy to rebuke the wilderness for their incessant gossip. Her paws ached and her eyes, a striking steel grey with sparkles of aquamarine, were weighed down heavily by boulders carrying sleep. She knew there to be a society nestled deep in the mountains she was so familiar with, cloaked by tendrils of hollyhock and lamb's ear, but finding such a place was easier said than done. She wandered the forest floor, scarce but littered with blankets of deep brown pine needles dislodged from their branches by the mighty hand of autumn. There was the vaguest sense of disturbance in the overwhelming musk of the mountain spruce, and such a revelation gave Syzygy hope, but her hope was quickly waning and her motivation dwindling just as fast.
Not because she was dead, mostly because no one ever seemed to realize she was there until she actually spoke. Syzygy liked to reason that maybe it was because no one could pronounce her name, and another, darker part of her suggested it was because she was known only to a few, and sometimes passed around as a story on the lips of disbelievers. In the public eye, she might have once laughed off the strange moniker and then returned to her own simple company to lament the nickname, wondering what happened in her formative years to make her seem so invisible. Now that being alone was her new normal, her steely disposition mutated so that she now wore her heart on her sleeve, a wretched condition of life she had mocked for so long prior. She was her own self-fulfilling prophecy, a phoenix who had not yet come to the apex of her flight because she was scared to get burnt. Syzygy still hadn't reached the peak of her life. At this point, she doubted she ever would.
The disbelievers were whispering now, having taken shape of the tall, hearty pine trees around her. They passed rumors from branch to branch, waving back and forth and asking one another if they had really seen that small brown tabby or if they were just imagining things. Syzygy heard them all and noted all their remarks but hardly had the energy to rebuke the wilderness for their incessant gossip. Her paws ached and her eyes, a striking steel grey with sparkles of aquamarine, were weighed down heavily by boulders carrying sleep. She knew there to be a society nestled deep in the mountains she was so familiar with, cloaked by tendrils of hollyhock and lamb's ear, but finding such a place was easier said than done. She wandered the forest floor, scarce but littered with blankets of deep brown pine needles dislodged from their branches by the mighty hand of autumn. There was the vaguest sense of disturbance in the overwhelming musk of the mountain spruce, and such a revelation gave Syzygy hope, but her hope was quickly waning and her motivation dwindling just as fast.
[glow=black,2,300]— ♡ —[/glow]
[glow=#e68bbe,2,300]IT'S NOT UP TO ME TO SHOW YOU THE LIGHT[/glow]
♡ sunhaven & young adult & sunbearer &@ izanami