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Summary
Imagine being a changeling child and living your life in quiet yearning.
You had been found in the dead of winter, or so your mother tells you, a half-fey child abandoned in a snowbank.
Imagine a lifetime of secrets: your first memories are of a spring that does not belong to the mortal realm. You dream of golden eyes gleaming at you from the darkness as your mother picked you up and carried you away.
Imagine keeping these things to yourself, tucked away against the curve of your ribs, right next to your slow-beating heart. Secrets that are half-yearning and half-memory: someone had left you there in that snowbank, and there are days that you think that they did not do so willingly.
And you hope that one day, they will find you again.
Bookmarked by zhonqligf
02 May 2024
Bookmarker's Notes
a single tear fell from my eyes as i finished this intricately weaved piece of writing… too good… too good…

