How many times had she visited here? Here, this barren wasteland of a world. The last familiar vestige of an age history otherwise forgot, even if the memories it provoked were less than savory. Whether it be a day, a week, or even the hundreds of years it originally was, hardly had it changed. Hardly did it ever, as if the flow & ebb of time stood still for this world alone.
How many times, & still she returned to this massive grave. Even when she herself could not explain her reasons why, for what reason truly existed? To place the past behind her? To mourn those lost, those who had been struck down long ago, at the sight of their proper graves? Everyone she knew was gone… gone from the world & from the memories of those in it, but a wisp of dust upon the wind- just another cloud or tumbleweed upon this sordid plain… yet then why did she feel drawn to this place, where not but tragedy had ever been graced?
With a hand above her heart, did the gaze of the fox fall. She should not be there at all… not in this place, nor this age. If not for that remarkable boy, still would she be doomed to walk an endless abyss… forgotten, just like the rest. Dead, but not. Perhaps that was why she continued to return to this fated land… to keep the memory alive, of all she had once sacrificed everything for… her past, her failures, & the lives no one was left to grieve but her…
But perhaps there was another reason.
“ Invi? “ Her mind, it had to be playing tricks on her. It wouldn’t be unusual, the cruelties of the mind having played more than a handful in that cursed abyss. A voice, a vision most like them but not. It had the fingers of her hand closing; tense, rigid & pained, for she’d thought herself done with this. Done with the illusions crafted by a longing heart. Then why did she heed it, turning from where she stood to see a figure running. Not just any figure, but one that had that little organ within her chest aching. Missing. Hoping beyond hope, before even she could catch herself.
Is it you, she asked, but wasn’t that her line? Hers to the illusion, for it had to be, it had to be. “ You… “ Hesitant, was the hand once upon her chest, now reaching towards the serpentine foreteller. Reaching… until her breath was taken with a choked sound, drawn back. Drawn to parted lips, as if to stop the emotion threatening to tumble forth. “ You’re not real… You can’t be… “ How often- how torturously often had this exact scenario played out, only for the vision to crumble beneath her fingertips? She couldn’t do it, not again. No matter how real this one seemed, for they were always real. No matter how this was the first since her revival, different but not… no.
Both numb & drowning beneath a flurry of emotion, of grief for who she knew- she knew could no longer be alive, her voice was but a whisper. Pained, & failing miserably at restraining how wet her eyes suddenly felt. “ You’re not real… “
Her mind clouded, thoughts to run through / eyes to waver just a tad. Was she once again blinded with longing-- lament? Was she so ashamed of her actions, regretting all she could and missing what once was to the point where. . . she could conjure an illusion so clear yet haunting?
perhaps this was her punishment.
Invi had always been afraid, anxious ever since her return. Wistful thoughts wanting a delusion; wishing it was all a dream, a story she once heard. and yet. . . she lived it. She lived through the destruction of her world / children fighting / thousands to watch those close to them perish / or even perish themselves. A family, a connection so strong yet broken so easily-- It was her fault. HER FAULT. She could not fulfill her role, COULD NOT be the mediator they needed. SHE had caused conflicts when she needed to mend them.
not only did she blame herself for the death of thousands, but the potential death of her dear sister.
Oh. . . how the sound of her voice broke her heart, twisting it in such a way. Ava’s hand, Invi to grasp it softly with both her own-- as if she was protecting something frail, delicate.
“ Ava. . . please, do not waste your tears on me. I’m real, I’m real. ” She lifted a hand slowly, wiping away any fallen tears the other shed. “ You are as well, are you not? ” even if you are not, I’m fine with pretending. even if I have to beg, allow me to wish that you are here-- regardless of how undeserving I am.
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