» every broken promise

It was hell all over again. For all her rebellious, mending, soothing purposes, she could do nothing as phantoms came back to life (except dread, except grit her teeth together, except pray that nothing else came from these abominations). “This has to stop,” she choked out to Imogen, who nodded, who growled, who hastened upheaval when there was naught much they could do. The Songbird’s heart thundered amidst the cool, cold apprehension, for she should’ve known, should’ve seen this coming, should’ve understood that Kisamoa would cross a thousand more lines, breach a million more wrongs, before he could be stopped. Amidst the boom, the din, the riotous throng, she swallowed down the bestial, barbaric, mercurial bombardments of those souls plucked from the dead – not allowed to rest, not allowed to return to the earth, their protections sealed – and began to sing. It was a calming, soothing tone, meant to oblige, meant to assuage, meant to keep the panic down as the realm threatened to fall apart. The Songbird and her fox wandered closer and closer to more children, to the panicking flurries of devastation, trying desperately to convey that they could be more than shadows, more than strife, more than all these dastardly, haunting memories brought back to life. You’re strong, she sang to the silver-hued boy with glowing, skeletal jaws. You’re mighty, she whistled to Isopia’s children. You can overcome this, she hastened to Ampere’s scions, walking her way over, hoping somehow she could make a difference as the realm descended into further madness. Lena where there is love, there is life.

image by safetylast @ flickr.com
{sings to try and help calm everyone down – brief mentions to @Varuna @Mauna @Otem @Iskra @Zèklè}