Though she’d been wandering ever since her arrival, Yggdrasil would always end up where she started: the yawning chasm in the center of Spirale. She had looked at it from so many vantage points but never grew tired of it.
The sight of it settled like a cloud blanketing her mind. It calmed her. Slowed her overactive, neurotic thoughts. She’d venture out here, over the Water of Styx, when she felt the most anxious. A wide open space. Some witnesses. Beautiful at night when the water glowed with a dreamy quality.
She would have to be careful; it would be impractical to become reliant on it.
Dusk has fallen, and the swimmers have started to dwindle. Yggdrasil wades out into the water and reclines. The coolness of the water does not bother her. She drifts out to the edge, near the abyss.
Her mind grows quieter and quieter the closer she gets. Her body feels weightless as she floats on her back, limbs starfished. Unbidden, her eyes close.
@celestial-torrent