#alliroe

"Come between with me, I know you can," the angel spoke aloud into the trees. In the silence, the absence of wind and the faintest flicker of time, the voice echoed. She left the place she was, and at his blink, he perceived it. He felt for her thread, the tug of which pulled at hers, and followed. In a null moment, he found himself in the fog of a between realm. Nara and Rakia both had their own terms for it, but the common word to name this realm was simpy, ‘between.’ Rakia said this was where we lead our threads, a realm gifted by the Threader; Nara said this is where the Mother ended dreams and began the lives we knew. Time was stronger here, as was memory...but once one left, both weakened to near nil once more. “Have you met me, Kovu?” the voice seemed confident of the answer, but fragile despite the fact. Anzel sat upon a snowy bough, undisturbed by the cold she could not feel. Somewhere, within a few tree-lengths, he responded, “I think so, yeah…” She blinked, thoughts down below as she watched the snow fall. A tender voice parted her lips, “Was I truly worth the trouble?” “Always.” There was conviction in his tone, afraid and distant though it be. “Am...are they,” her words lilted in confusion, “like me? Different? Do they...resemble…” “There is only one out there, and yes, she is you. But they are, too. You all are.” A quick breath escaped her nose, eyelids thinning, mouth in a line, “Why can’t I remember, there...why can’t you?” “I, guess…” thoughts collected, “because people don’t remember their dreams much. The same applies to us, or, um, them. This.” “...When I’m there, I know you’re always with me. Always with the angel, never with the two-faced wolves. I’ve never met them, and I wonder if I would have been jealous, had you chosen one of them…” “One cannot love night without day, or day without night, my angel.” She blinked slowly at his words, a breath taking rest in her breast. She turned her head, trying to see the white lion against the snow, “It is...cold, up here. Come join me.” The wind, as she believed it was, was all she heard within the copse of trees and snow. “You know I...can’t, my angel.” Her blink was broken, and fell into closed eyes, defeated. “Then why did you follow?” Curiosity brooked her voice. “Why did you ask me to?” The light of a moon within seashell clouds seemed to pale her. “...to hear your voice again, Kovu.” She heard nothing; her hands cradled her upper arms, knees pulling closer. Her wings fluffed reflexively, combating a cold she would only know from memory. “The humans need us, Anzel. Two tangled pieces can’t do much alone…” “...why won’t you come to me?” Little suns shone as she blurred her eyes upon the snow. “I’ll always be here, my angel...you’re never alone. I promise you.” Her wings folded around her frame, just as her arms encircled her knees. “If...when, you learn you can fly, I’ll be...here.” And with a blink, she knew he was gone. Another, and she only knew he was within the Weave with her. The strange white lion, always watching her, but she could never quite catch him. Not as this worthless self, with dragging wings and a pointless duty. As for the lion, he watched her from afar; ears trained forward and head held low. He didn’t always remember what he was watching for, but he knew, at least… ...that it was worth the wait.

Some said she was an angel; With eyes like skylight and woody wings, Velvet in yellow ice, gleaming from the snow’s reflection Her name is Aetha; Skybourne if you press She enjoys gaming around in loops and threads And teasing those that chase her The Lione asks her her name She says, ‘Aetha,’ and no longer sleeps There is a girl named Anzel Her last name is only a guess Everyone seems to see her in some way But the only one who sees her as herself, is her reflection He’s not sure if they’ve ever even met, But he knows the angel’s dusky ash wings And primally hungers for the arbor feathers of miss ‘Aetha’ Who swears she is an angel, because that’s what people said --- Still trying new medications out. Still figuring myself out. Still world-building Alliroe, and my personal demons. Nara, Aetha, and Kovu aren’t mine, but they still bother me sometimes. I’m so tired of being abnormal...

It was because no matter how long he ‘searched,’ 'it’ was never me.

But she had to try.

“Are you okay?” he asks, tone uncertain. “No, I’m not,” she said as she shook her head, staring silently at the stones. Water dripped from the canopy of the woods, spare drops from a passing storm that left the sky a dismal grey. The day was ending, it was that point where your eyes have trouble adjusting to the grey-on-grey of stone, wet, and water. Puddles in concave rocks, the burble of a soft stream, and a raptor-girl sitting at the edge of a broken piece of the earth. A shattered stone that could never be moved, but would be slowly worn away. She felt the foreign feel of water drifting over the feathered end of her tail, but it merely stirred her. She still lay in the dark cloud, overwhelmed and broken. Kuma looked at her with empathy, eyes shining as the stream flashed water this way and that. “What is it now?” “What is it ever?” She spoke fluently, cutting off his words like a sheet of rain. He watched her, looking for any loss of control, but could sense none. This storm was its own, she was not speaking to it. But it cradled her anyways, in ways that he could not. “You will not be forgotten...” Gentler eyes could not have been made, but it had no effect on the greying-girl. “If the Weaver had thought us of import, perhaps. But we are the rejects, the loose threads...” “And Rakia speaks for himself,” he said, practically spitting his name, “you heard Aetha, too. No one knows...not even him.” “I’ll wake up soon. And I won’t remember this again. I have so little time left before my meaning will eternally be lost...” “It won’t be...” “Shut up, Kuma,” she growled, eyes turned a frozen gold. The look was shared for a moment, the sound of the overstayed rain on the sodden leaves almost rhythmic. He looked at her one last time, before he sighed. His eyes had been growing heavy, and he knew he had to rest soon. In truth, he envied Nakyr; if she was right, then she still had a chance to exist. He lost his years ago. He wanted to reach out to her, but knew better. She did not trust him. She could not love him. And it ached him. He sighed emptily, “Good night, my dear. May tomorrow find you well.” “If tomorrow comes at all...” For in her mind, what point was there when no one would remember your name...not even yourself.