HEATHENS

tie a rope around your neck, and let me kick you off a bungee "He is," I let the words fall out in confirmation, in agreement because there is nothing left - the Sun God, the Throat, all of Helovia has perished at the hands of Kaos, there is nothing but fine grains somewhere in a plane of existence we are no longer on, figments of memories, scattered pieces of remembrance in mortal minds who will eventually forget or fall to their mortality - whatever comes first.  "Everything is gone," I whisper, defeated, drowning in the despair of reality, hopeless, already feeling the last wisps of Helovia shedding from my skin, pooling at my hooves, gone into the dirt beneath me. There's nothing left for me, for us, for the Helovian population that crossed over - we have no homes, no Dragon's Throat to return to, no World's Edge, no Aurora Basin, there was no more Marsh, it had all been obliterated before us, swallowed by the black plumes of smoke that swallowed the world, that ate up my vision as I entered the Portal. Perhaps I too was dead, brought to ruin in the same way Helovia had been, stuck in an eternal dream of entering an unknown world, of finding my family, finding company I can remember - but no, I am here, I am present before Saoirse, present within the Rift despite every bone in my body wishing I was no longer tethered, unattached, letting go of my grounding and drifting away. Away from here, away from all of the pain that swelling in my heart with each passing moment, that infected my lungs on each inhale, that crept into my joints and rooted there, leaving me frozen and sobbing. I wanted to drift endlessly, to find a place somewhere that wasn't here, that wasn't anywhere, I could not remain with my hooves against ground I could not see in blues and greens, in oranges and reds, in the cool mists of morning a deep cool blue, and as the day came to its peak burned beneath me with vibrant red - I could not stay here where I could not see, not the trees and their sun soaked foliage, not the bodies clumped together at gatherings or standing alone across vast distances, not the companions that trilled beside their bonded, not fiery magic that swirled through the air in brilliance, in the way metal caught the heat of Tallsun and kept it close the same way my coat did. I saw none of it now, knew that there was nothing left of the place I'd cursed, where I kicked the sands in frustration, where my skin sweltered beneath the sun's rays and I just huffed, where I would seek refuge in the Marshes, in the Caves, anywhere but home when the world seemed all to expansive for someone so small. It was over. It was - over. There is strain running its course across my features, subtle and all too close to the surface as my shoulders feel heavy, as if the weight of Helovia's own pain and sorrow, the reality of its demise, all came crashing down upon me and I was left to fend for myself beneath it's crushing weight. I want to let myself sink into the dirt below me, to slip away, to withdraw from the harsh reality presented to me and find refuge somewhere that wasn't here. I shake my head, because there is no point in gods if they are powerless against others, if they are useless when the time comes for them to stand against another being - our gods were defenseless, there was no fight against Kaos, it had been simply a massacre, the end of an entire population, the end of a lapse of history, a piece of life spanning across generations, completely obliterated at the hands of a single deity. "There really is no point, not if they're rendered useless against anything even a breath stronger," I pause, shifting my weight, letting my head drop lower," but without gods to be our limit, our restrictions as to how high we can fly, how strong we can get, what is there?" I can only imagine the chaos, the wretched destruction of order as the world falls apart, crumbling upon itself, the powerful and bold climbing their way to the top, there is anarchy, there is tyranny - there is end. "You get gods among men, you get mortals with too much power who use it for their own selfish purposes, who think that they control each breath we take and step we take because they were granted too much so early," my voice is a steady whisper, firm and present but hushed, as if I was offering up some grand secret, the key to unlocking god tier status without lifting a finger to the boy before me. "I suppose even if there were no real gods, we would still have someone at the top, someone keeping us in check whether they were doing so justly or selfishly, playing the game to keep us below him." I can feel my words gain a bite, a little kick at the final sentence because all I can remember is Momma telling me the world is always against you, it is dog eat dog and you are just a snack - you are just something for them to conquer, a pawn for their twisted game and you must beat them by playing it. I listen to his story, taking in each word, the waver of his voice as he drags on the explanation, and I offered a shrug of crumpled wings. Life is not fair, it never would be, there are too many pieces, too many variables to try and balance it, to give each an equal opportunity, to give each the same chances in life, to grant them the same pleasantries. Family was no exception, each member a unique character with their own personalities, whether distorted and unpredictable or always so easily read, whether always present and a comforting presence or absent, lost to their own troubles. I toss my head to the side as my shoulders rise, as my wings dangle at my sides limply and my ears fall back. "I can't offer familiar advice, I have a father with no restraint and a mother who couldn't even take care of herself. My father was there for me as much as he could be, but dividing up time between ten children and an entire herd, well, he wasn't there all the time. My mother, she left, she gave me up because she couldn't handle the responsibility of a child when she could barely keep herself alive." Another shrug, as if brushing aside the damage done by my tattered childhood, by the ghosting father who although tried his best, was still missing as he tended to the rest of his growing flock, and the damaged mother who tried for a moment, who seemed hopeful before falling apart because I was just another one of her big mistakes. "But if you really feel hurt by what she's done to you, tell her, confront her, make sure she knows. Don't let this fester any longer than it has to, because the time comes when the opportunity is gone and past and you are left to regret. It's an awful feeling, and I don't think it goes away," my voice is hollow, barely a whisper at the last words because my inner turmoil threatens a release, it threatens destruction, to ravage my heart all over again as I admit my own mistakes. I retract, I return, I realize that I have spilled myself out for this boy, this stranger, this bőgőmasina. I was detailing my life story to him and I was suddenly so aware, aware of each painful inhale and exhale, of the whispers beyond us, of the chatter of distant animals, the drops of rain splashing down onto lower leaves, onto rocks and puddles, soaking into the dirt, and I wish so badly that I too was soaking into the soil beneath me. I'm too exposed, too open and public, too out there in the world and I feel so helpless now, tied down by my mistakes as I remain paralyzed before Saoirse.

@Saoirse