#hopebeyondart

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For a moment she loses all sense of direction, where is up, where is down, twisting, turning, spiralling—

No air—

A light appears, faint through the tangles of darkness.

She pushes herself off something rigid, can’t tell what, shoots up. Breaks through the surface, takes her first proper breath in what feels like centuries.

It’s brighter up her, the light gets reflected into eternity by a hundred thousand small fishes circling and flying all around her. She’s still swimming in an ocean of darkness, but the fish are above her, in the air. Sometimes small bubbles drift down toward her.

She feels dizzy.

What is this place, if it’s even a place?

Something touches her foot and she shrieks, kicks out, and her foot connects with … something.

Something that’s both hard and soft at the same time, hard upon impact, growing soft and malleable immediately after. It lazily encircles her calf, almost in a caring way, moving down until it reaches her ankle. Then it becomes hard like rock, enclosing her ankle her like a manacle. She trashes about, but the grip only gets tighter as she continues to struggle, until she feels like her foot is going to fall off, so she gives up, breathing heavily. Why am I even swimming?, she wonders dimly, the thoughts drifting up through her fatigue, her panic, her pain, the confusion and terror. 

The thing starts dragging her after it, and she can’t even tell what it is because the darkness is everywhere, except above. Above there are only fish, shining like rainbows and light. 

Her head is rumbling like an earthquake.

Is she hanging upside down?

Where am I? Where are my— my—

It lets go of her foot. Her momentum stops. There’s movement around her but she still can’t tell if it’s just from the not-water, or from the Thing. The half-finished thought drifts from her mind in the face of their sudden stop. 

She looks around, taking in everything from the flashy fish to the endless divide of darkness below and light above, and—

Rocks. Rising higher, in the distance. A coast? No more than ten feet away!

Land!

She coughs, her heart beating quicker, relief surging. Struggles forward, ignoring the illogical fact that she never learned how to swim in the first place, reaches the rocks. The darkness clings to her clothes in a sticky, weird way, sloughing off in dried, glass-like shards.

She finally makes herself stand, dazed, and then forces her way up the rocky coast.

Looking back, it’s obvious that it wasn’t water. It’s black, with a metallic sheen, sometimes reflecting the light the way oil does, with a rainbow of dark greens, blues, purples… and it’s too slow and viscous to be water. She breathes out and watches as bubbles make their way in a lopsided, whimsical manner downward, popping apart as they touch the rocks, a strange small glow exploding outward, dissipating.

Not for the first time, she wonders where she is. 

Welcome, a thought pops into her head, but it’s not hers. She whirls around, but there’s nothing there. Her heart thuds in her chest like a panicked little beast, trying to escape. 

Then something heaves itself from the not-water. Something huge, strangely shiny, its skin made out of strange, rigid round plates where it’s supposed to be soft. A bit like coins, but not coins. Metallic, though, in a strange way. 

An octopus, its eye along bigger than her head. She feels dizzy, standing in front of something so huge, something that looks just like the water she came from. The Not-water.

“Is that your ink?”, she hears herself say. Her voice sounds unafraid, calm, fascinated. As if there’s another person in her head, someone who isn’t her.

Maybe, it thinks inside her head. I am the kraken, little one. Who are you? Her head is woozy, her mind strange. She looks him in the eye, and her two selves re-unite.

“I am Alia Nyx”, she says. Her fear is suddenly gone, whisked away. “Why am I here? And where is ‘here’. Where are my parents?”

I cannot answer these questions, he replies gently. You must ask the Mother. Just walk inland, and you will meet her.  Do not be afraid.  You will be all right.

She blinks a few times.

The dizziness leaves.

“Thank you”, she says, and then she wanders away.

Her mind is suddenly blank, calm. Strange.

She doesn’t remember why she was afraid in the first place. This place is strangely beautiful. A swarm of fish follow her, shining in the air. 

Like a land of dreams.

There’s a pause, and Alia can feel her heart beating faster, until it’s running, galloping. Am I dead?

Then the bison slowly settles down, and for the first time she’s not towering over Alia anymore. She suddenly looks old, far, far older than anything else Alia has ever seen. The kraken included. “You will be okay, Alia. I promise. And … you’re not really dead. On the brink? But not … not yet. You will be okay.” Another pause. They say that a lot, here. “You may call me Bess.” 

“Really? Bess? I felt like you looked like a Bess.” Alia frowns, trying to shake off the weird feeling of déjà vu. “But … how can you tell? That it’s going to be okay? I—it’s been so hard.” She lets herself drop down next to Bess, suddenly feeling cold and weird. What is this place? 

For the first time, she notices that Bess isn’t a normal bison, just like the kraken wasn’t a normal kraken, either. There are flowers and weeds and small plants growing all over her, parts of her skin peeking through look like rock, and in some spaces there’s just … nothing where there’s supposed to be a body, just plants, or smoke, or air. Smoke curls out of her nostrils, and sometimes it takes on the shape of butterflies, black like ash, fluttering a few times before they fall apart, drifting down. Icicles hang down from her chin, her horns are too shiny, too strange to be anything but black, smooth rock… even feathers grow on parts of her body. She has two huge wings that still don’t look like they would support her weight. Alia can even see through her belly, and there’s a strange glimmer from the inside, like there’s a fire burning in there.

Only her eyes look the way they’re supposed to; her eyes, and the softness of her snout. 

“I am the Mother”, Bess says softly. “The past, the present, the future; this world, and all others. You aren’t dead, your presence feels different. You’re a light in the darkness, and you bring life to us, little one. If you want, you can stay forever, or you can move on, or you can go back. It’s your choice, Alia.”

There are tears in Alia’s eyes, forbidden tears of gratitude, but also of pain, and confusion. “What… what happened to my parents? To my… my new parents. Why aren’t they here? Are they okay?”

The bison looks away. “I think you know”, she says very gently. 

The sobs break out without Alia’s permission. She doesn’t remember moving but suddenly she’s pressed against Bess’ neck, curled halfway into her fur, her feathers, her plants. 

“You will be okay”, Bess says gently. She smells like home. “Rhisíl and I will take good care of you.”

☀☀☀

It‘s cold outside the bed, and Alia dresses quickly, in several layers of warm, cozy things. And a scarf. Morgan loves scarfs, and Alia loves them, too. It‘s something they have in common. 

Then she carefully opens her door, making sure that it doesn‘t creak, and makes her way downstairs (avoiding the Bad Steps). 

She drinks a glass of orange juice, puts some more dry food out for the cats (they‘re already complaining loudly but Morgan is the one who gives them wet food, and Morgan won‘t be up for another hour or two, so it‘s better than nothing). She also pours a tiny amount of watered down milk on a saucer for Mighty One. Morgan might be irritated by that but Alia’s done it enough times by now that she probably won’t even mention it. 

Then, finally, Alia unlocks the front door with her very own, shiny key, putting it in her pocket. The neighbours here are all very nice and she knows that nobody else locks their doors... but Morgan grew up in the city, and she‘s probably going to need a while until she stops doing it, if it ever happens.

☀☀☀

The husky greets her in front of Phaedra’s door, pushing against her leg, almost making her stumble. She laughs, kneeling next to him, and starts rubbing his belly when he flops over. His fur is thick and deep and so soft, so soft...

“Alia?”

She looks up. Phaedra looks down at her with amusement (but also a faint, underlying concern) written all over her face. Alia laughs.

“I‘ve made a new friend!”, she says. “His name is ... something cold? I think?” She concentrates, frowning. “Ice?... Frost.. hmm...”

“—Winter?”, Phaedra asks. Her voice is tiny, almost not there at all.

Alia‘s smile slips, and she nods. Can feel her heart thudding in her chest. Here it is; the day has come. She knows it‘ll be worth it. Still, now that the moment is here, she‘s daunted by the task in front of her.

Phaedra, for her part, just stops moving. Even the small motions, like breathing or blinking, ... stop.

“Winter?”, Phaedra repeats. Her voice is brittle as ice, and so quiet that the word almost doesn’t reach Alia. 

She suppresses the fluttering in her heart and smiles faintly at Phaedra. “Yeah. I‘ve seen him around before. He‘s a very good boy. Maybe even the best one.”

Winter rolls to the side and gets back up, wagging his tail so strongly that it moves his entire butt. Then he howls in both pain and triumph (Alia can feel it reverberate in her very soul, and it makes her want to cry and sing at the same time), running around Phaedra and Alia in circles. She can feel that he wants to get closer but that he’s also... afraid of it.

“Is he… a dog?”, Phaedra asks. She knows the truth already. Has known it from the moment Alia let her guess his name. 

Still, Alia nods, slowly pushing herself back up on her feet. She‘s only a bit shorter than Phaedra. It feels wrong, to be this tall. Very wrong. Not relevant. “He‘s a husky”, she says very softly, trying to suppress the tears that are suddenly welling up in her eyes. 

You have done very well, Rhisíl whispers at the back of her thoughts, voice creaking like leaves and bark and branches. Her nose tingles, but she holds the tears back nonetheless. 

“I had a husky named Winter when I was a child”, Phaedra says. Her voice is far away, both from Alia and from herself. Distanced. Almost lost, but not quite. 

Phaedra has gone to the past, to a place that hurts, but also a place that‘s filled with love and longing.

Sometimes Alia wishes that she had such a place, but now is not the time for thoughts like that. There are good moments there, true, but the other ones outweigh them one to ten. Easier to suppress. Especially now. 

“He‘s watched over you”, Alia hears herself say. Her voice sounds like hers, but also not. It‘s as far away as Phaedra, in a place she will never be able to reach. “He‘s always been with you.” He just needed a bit of love, to grow, to take shape again. 

A tear rolls down Phaedra‘s cheek and she blinks, once, twice. More tears come. She collapses to the ground, grasping her elbows with her hands, burying her face in her arms. Winter approaches carefully, starts licking her arm. Alia doesn‘t want to look at him, because she can feel the Change. They always change when she finally acknowledges their Truth. She doesn‘t know why. The world is far away, bright and beautiful, and her heart aches with love, but also with the sads. 

Winter‘s face looks just like it did before, but the rest of him doesn‘t. His fur is matted, dark and slick. He‘s trailing long, thin ribbons behind him. Two of his legs are dark and strange.  Bone sticks out here and there, and his soul glows brightly from within his ribcage. Some of the bones are black, but others aren’t. Their placement is strange, as if there are two different dimensions to him at the same time, one with the bones on the outside, one with them on the inside, and sometimes they mingle.

He‘s still beautiful, though, and his entire being glows with the eternal love he will forever hold for Phaedra.

Alia blinks away a tear and smiles sadly. 

“He just wants to let you know that he loves you very much”, she says. Phaedra looks at her, with lost eyes full of tears and pain, but when she smiles it‘s the most beautiful thing Alia‘s ever seen.

“Thank you”, she says. Her voice only cracks a little, near the end. Alia smiles and even if there are tears in the way, she knows that Phaedra doesn‘t mind. She sits down next to her, and Phaedra puts an arm around her shoulder.

A brave step, Rhisíl whispers. You‘ve done well, little one. Pain hurts, but sometimes the right pain can heal, too. 

Alia doesn‘t reply. She can feel him circling high above, high above the clouds. Winter dances around them, trailing shadows behind himself, and Alia knows she‘s done the right thing. 

She isn’t sure if it’ll change anything between herself and Phaedra, but even if it does… it was worth it.

☀☀☀

@writingwordsanddrawingpictures​ @kittensartswriting​ @afragilestrongsoul​ @ettawritesnstudies​

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I’m uploading yesterday’s art this late because there was an electrical issue at home yesterday. If we hadn’t caught it, the whole house could’ve burned down o_o so I drew my inktober art with a flashlight, because we put out all the electronics except for the fridge, and hoped that it would survive the night... (the emergency electrician couldn’t access the problem are because the company we get our electricity from has “safety measures” in place which he couldn’t get around. And they weren’t open because it was Sunday. Yaay.)

I’m mostly happy with how it turned out, even if there are a few things I would’ve preffered to end up differently XD