Corla was exhausted. Sure she could blame it on prolonged exposure to being in the Aether but she was just mentally and physically drained. Her demon was no where in sight, which is probably due to her methods on messaging it’s organization, her country was falling apart, and now she might have just made a mistake that might cost her even more than she can afford to pay. She just wished she knew what to do. Illyanna would know what to do… she always did.
Corla laid quietly under a canopy of trees, one arm extended out, the other curled back to stroke her wing… not her wing though… these were Illyanna’s wings, the only thing she has left of her, the proof of her conviction and devotion. This gift from the Reaper.
With the Madness no longer inside her she could lay there with a clear head, and her memories returned she felt almost whole again.
“I don’t know, what words I can say. The wind has a way, to talk to me….” she began to sing. One of the only songs she knew, the song that brings her peace. The song that resonated with her wholly. “… What is it they say? Maybe I will know one …. day….” She finished.
“I really should finish those poems for Orphia, now that I can think straight again…..but what the fuck is a ghazal….?”