amidst the dancing skies

by Redfawn666

Summary:

more poems and short stories about auri.

Chapter 1: handprints

she hates seeing the footprints in the underthing.

 

clumsy brutish people who don't know the world

 

have no place in a special place like the world beneath

 

they mix things up and mess them up

 

and have no respect for the things they use

 

and once they touch something it's no longer really hers

 

but it's more than just that.

 

they remind her of the handprints on her name

 

cruel selfish people who don't know her

 

have no place in her mind or her name

 

but they break and they steal

 

and have no respect for the people they use

 

and now that they've touched her name, it's no longer really hers.

Chapter 2: eggshell

she is an egg, white blankets wrapped tight around her. she wished they were as hard as shell to shield her from all the wrongness

but they're not. they're just fabric in the end and fabric tears just as easily as flesh when held beneath an unkind hand

so she unwraps herself and blinks in the sudden light

because even here there the sun will not let her be

she is cold and sore from curling tight around herself, and when she stands her feet hurt where they touch the stone

but the pain's not a bad pain, not like the one in her middle, and it helps clear some clouds from her head as she takes a single cold drink of water

which makes her stomach turn and go chill but does nothing to ease the burning inside her

and she knows from experience that nothing will make it fade quicker, so she staggers to the table

where her latest finds are awaiting a righter home

and her hands and legs are shaking as she carries a tarnished silver bracelet to billows

a bumblebee, long dead and dried, to van

the shell of a large turtle to port

and then she's trembling too hard to continue and the room is spinning

her knees crack against the floor as she collapses

shattered eggshell

Chapter 3: she knows

she knows.
she studied under the best at the university. she can name a hundred poisons, a hundred antidotes, list every part of the human body. she knows how she works, how to keep herself safe. she purifies her own water, gathers her own food, tends her own corner of the world. she knows how the world works, how to keep it turning without it spinning ever so slightly further off its axis.

she knows.
she's a hard worker. she knows how long days can be, how much needs doing even when she's sick and empty inside. she knows how quickly things can go all wrong, knows how to walk the line between okay and fraying at the seams. she has seen the darkness that crouches sullen under the university, and she has seen the darkness that ebbs and flows like shadows in candleflame inside herself.

she knows.
it's been bad before, very bad, and she has prayed to all the gods and goddesses that she be spared. but they never seem to hear her prayers, so she reached for the world, for the shapes of things, and spared herself instead.

she knows.
where she is, why she's here. she remembers all the things she doesn't want to remember. people call their remembrances memory lane, and she wishes she could nail up no trespassing signs over the dark alleys of her mind. but she does not believe in nails.

she knows.
if she didn't want to tend the world, she would stop. if the shadows and blueflame ever come in full force, she knows all the escape routes. she is prepared, master mandrag taught her that much, and she knows all the ways, although he didn't teach her those.

she knows.
it's her choice. and so she chooses to stay, and know the world, instead of the ways out.