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hiemaliis · 4 years

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@borealiis sent → ⛄️ [ for our muses to build a snowman together ]

she did, perhaps despite herself and her often sour mood, enjoy winter. it was cold and it cut to the bone, but beneath the biting chill, warmth could be found --- either it was because in winter, she felt more at home than she did in any town, in any village or because she was not alone. she did not think about this much, these days. everything in her life, each city, each home, each friend had been temporary. she knew this. she knew that each year would only add to the graves she dug for others in her heart, to the graves she would carry in her chest forever. cassian would become such a grave, as difficult as it was to think this thought as she followed him through the snow, the many layers of their clothes rustling as they moved.

she tried to push the thought away, just like the snow was being cleared from the store entrances, but this was more difficult. it always was. snow was just snow, her thoughts were often harmful tendrils of painful memories that just would not leave her alone. at first, it had not bothered her as much as it did nowadays when just too often, she looked at cassian --- at her friend --- and was reminded how easy life could be snuffed out. a bad day. an accident. a walk through the wrong part of town. the possibilities were almost endless, as were the ways she had been reminded that just because it was never the end for her, it did not mean it did not hurt. it did. it hurt a lot. and she did not think it would ever not hurt.

she felt cassian saying ver more than she heard it, it tugged her away from her thoughts all the same --- not roughly, but with a firmness that did not quite match his youth, that most would not expect from him. then, she thought with a grimness that did not suit the weather, she was harsh and sharp in a hundred ways and most would not expect it from her either. maybe that was what she liked about him.

she reached for his arm, catching his wrist in her hand and squeezing it gently as her shoulder bumped into him. she should live in the moment. she should not think of the past --- gravestones, choking on blood and on gold --- and she should not think of the future --- more graves, more grief she would never find the right words for. she should just be, she should forget what had been and what was to come, should not give it the space it so angrily demanded.

but --- to deny it its space would be to deny her father, her brother their space . . . and she could not do that. they were what hurt the most, were the most intense, the sharpest part of her grief. she missed them, and all the seasons that had come and gone since then had not softened it, had not even worn down the edges a little. and it was strange, no? how grief had carved out so much that had been good about her ( she had been funny, she had been compassionate ), and yet it did not make her feel lighter. she was not at risk of drifting away, of being blown away by the slightest breeze --- she was heavy.

as she had ran travelled, she had met others who were as heavy. who had suffered. who had been victims of crime. who had been to war. there were so many sad stories she had come across, so many sad stories that made hers feel insignificant. she might have died at thirteen, but she had gotten better, had she not? she might have lost her home and her family, but they had lived. in the greater scheme of things, that was what mattered. she did not have much room to complain. she almost healed faster than the world could hurt her, she would be fine. she just had to stop caring about things she could not change.

nevertheless, she let herself cling to cassian for longer than necessary. there were things here, things she could not clothe in words. he sometimes seemed heavier than he should, too, but she did not know how to ask someone else about their heaviness when she could not talk about her own. so this was all she had: walking with him through the snow, arms pressed against each other. ‘‘ this should be a good spot, ’’ she said as she stopped, letting go of him with a sigh. it had been a long time --- at least one and a half emperors --- since she had last played in the snow. since she had last let herself act her apparent age.

and cassian nodded, all but ready to dive into the snow. there was a new lightness to him, as if he too felt more comfortable in winter’s cold than he did in any other place, but that was wishful thinking on her part. still ------ he did look peaceful, so peaceful that she had to halt for a moment to commit this scene to memory. her friend, playing in the snow without a care in the world. free. they still had a bit to go until saturnalia and even further until her birthday, but this was a gift.

#VERSE // MAIN: ARC 0 ❛ ADOLESCENCE DIDN'T MAKE SENSE #borealiis #cassian and verina were the original™ bealix and i love them #FH // ASK: IC ❛ I DON'T SAY MUCH AND IT'LL STAY THAT WAY #ADDITIONAL // ASK ❛ ONE LETTER AFTER ANOTHER #and then cassian got sick and died and verina never really got over it and became a tiny trauma child #also lmao: this is yet another case of jackie giving me a cutesy prompt and me making angst of it

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hiemaliis · 7 years

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new york, may 1931

dear richard,

a few years have passed since the last time our paths crossed. the world is, once more, changing. i suppose this is why i sat down to bring my thoughts to paper --- the world is changing, we are not. we remain, unchanged ... frozen. it is nothing i like to talk about; how much i dislike change because it insists on forgetting about you and me. to the date, you are the only living being who can understand what that is like --- others change with every breath they take, have not been sentenced to the fate we share. and that is surely why we collide, why we clash; we are too similar, are not two sides of one coin but rather the same coin. which makes all of this so utterly frustrating. and which is why you will not receive this letter. not only have i no idea where you are (though i could find out, as we both know) but because you know too much without me opening up. i hope you are well, wherever you are. that no matter who adopted you treats you decently, because that is the least anyone should be able to expect. i disgress.

au revoir, miriam

#borealiis #thread: unsent letters #VERSE // MAIN: ARC 0 ❛ ADOLESCENCE DIDN'T MAKE SENSE #FH // THREADS ❛ AND IF I WERE FEARLESS I’D SPEAK MY TRUTH

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