#caora

(art credit: vestige, rob mulholland)

The dusty streets of Thanalan were my first home. I am not forestborn, and as such, I am no Hearer. The elementals don’t speak to me, but there are still answers to be found among the trees, if you ask apt questions in the correct manner. It’s all about tailoring your approach to appease the right authority, and the elementals are not the only guardians of the Shroud.

Yes, I speak of the Matron.

I warned Melody and Ashton to leave me to my work, but in truth, they were ill-inclined to disturb me. The rot that began in the apples we’d harvested had begun to spread to the trees as well, opening moldy pits in some of the fruit still hanging from the boughs, threatening the entire grove. Could it be isolated and contained? Could any of the crops be salvaged, or were they about to face a winter with no windfall at all? These were the questions that concerned them, and understandably so.

With other matters to attend, I faded into the Twelveswood without protest from either of my benefactors. A full waterskin, a handful of ethers in a pouch, and my cane etched with scripture were all I took with me. It would have to last two suns. Maybe three.

Deep enough into the forest that I could no longer see Melody’s farmhouse, yet still close enough that I could feel the living beat of the orchard, I sought a place to sit. A patch of mossy earth, cradled between two roots, where I could lean my back against the trunk of a old tree and allow my heartbeat to sync to the sluggish flow of its veins. Trees contain a lifesblood much like our own, but sticky and sweet; time is not the same to them. I slowed myself down to meet them in the middle. My breath all but stilled. My heart became a whisper.

Two suns, maybe three. My lips would begin to crack at the corners. My ankles would develop deep sores where they crossed under my legs, pressed against the tree roots. Ants would explore my body, tracking through my hair and up my sleeves before ultimately deciding I carried nothing of interest, but I paid them no mind. I was not there for them.

As time went on, each new throb of pain began to melt into the others. The dull thud of my tailbone harmonized with the sharp discomfort in my feet. The pangs of hunger set a bass note for the others to follow. This was a tide that I could find myself in, lose myself to, follow in blissful nonexistence until something arose from the noise both within me and without, until the barrier between the two became indistinct. My spine sang with the same frequency as the crickets. What was the difference? There was no difference.

If I cease to exist, so does the pain. After the self is dissolved like powdered ash in a light breeze, all that remains in its wake is the song of Hydaelyn, a euphonious humming without beginning or end.

And in that nothing that is still everything all at once, I felt it.

I felt her.

No, not Hydaelyn. Not the Matron.

//side eyes my PhD research project folder where I regularly copy/paste the same files into seven different folders//

caora replied to your post “being a researcher is a fascinating job”

I didn't know you were doing research now though! That's exciting!

CAORA

[Sheep]

IPA: kɯːrə 🎧 Faidhle-Fuaime le Learn Gaelic: https://go.aws/2UFJgl4

honestly this just reminds me of that shitpost I made An Aeon ago where I said that Sans was my Delirious face canon bc they both have blue hoodies

flower asks for fanfic writers

LILY: do you listen to music when you write? if so, do you have a specific playlist for it?

i do! the song or songs i listen to is very depended on what i’m writing and what mood im in. i have specific playlists for specific pairings, but most of the time i just pick one song and have it on repeat while i write!

ROSE: which of your works is your favorite? why?

ohhhh thats hard... uhhh its probably a tie between human error and what’s mine is yours and what’s yours is gone... i love ‘em both

WATER LILY: what helps you get through writer’s block?

writing something shitty. for me, i have to edit while i write, i can’t just leave it till after but that means im stuck writing and re-writing one paragraph for a half an hour because it’s not ‘perfect’. and if what i write isn’t perfect, then its very easy for me to nope out of writing and get stuck.