You are Sylphina, paragon of your kind.
Days gone by, years, generations, centuries, eons. Time flows endless and she, a watcher of time, dipped her hands in that river. The Player that the Games never foresaw taking the “gift” given to her and making her own laws. She is callous, she is cold, distant, unresponsive. In one motion, she could rip someone apart and feel nothing. Ruthless, hands covered in blood of the lives she took so long ago.
Red hair, bright smile, warmth. In the eyes of her Sun, she was a Tree, one that was ancient, one that had withstood the test of time. Temperamental, scowl on his lips, eyes that made you feel alive, the Fire hadn’t burned her. He served to making her feel.
Sylph wasn’t empty, not when it came to them.
Dark skin, gentle nature, everything good one could expect in a person. He is Forte, the one left behind. Every moment his heart beats, every time he’s breathing, it’s a reassurance. Time will take him, as it does with everyone else and yet, Sylph can feel herself becoming greedy. It wasn’t so long ago, so absurdly short, that the duo was once a quartet. Then that quartet became a trio, then it became two. Images of Rosalyn and Icarus burst forth, them arguing and there Forte is, letting them have at it. He only intervenes when need be and not a moment sooner.
The lithe female held out a hand, petite in size.
“You’re the only friend I have left.” The statement is bold for her but not so out of character. Her words were always straightforward, always said with the exact intent she wanted. “Perhaps that’s why I wish to treasure you more than I am used to doing. The thought that you are sad or that you do not see yourself the way I see you...it hurts. It’s a pain I haven’t felt in a long time.”
She pressed herself closer, letting herself talk more than she had with...well...anyone really. Rosalyn spoke often and she became used to Fina’s short and chopped sentence. Occasionally, they did talk in depth but never to point where words came tumbling out of her mouth. Even with Icarus, whom she had admired in her own way, this had never happen. Even that small burst of emotion upon the message he left for her after his death--
“Rosalyn became so important to me and it still leaves me feeling strange at that thought of that. Had it turned out differently, the idea of me never knowing you or her or even Icarus, it forms a lump in my throat.” Strange, odd, perplexing. Once started, she cannot stop. It’s as is every moment has been leading up to this. The further she reached for the deepest depths within herself, the more she was pushed into now. “I’ve seen many things. I’ve felt many things. I’ve done many things. So, it was easy to let it all go. Dark, grey, without sort of color. I accepted it, let myself be washed in the idea of that life was meant for me.”
Alone, timeless, forever.
She can feel the faltering in her systems, her mind growing hazy. Too much output, she’s going to drift but she can’t--!!
“Do you...think...I could...stay?”
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