They say patience is a virtue. But what if there is no destination in sight that one can wait for?
They say curiosity kills the cat. But what if it is the only way the cat will stay alive?
They say blessings come in disguise. But the blessing did not come, and so it is the sunchild who is disguised, seeking the blessing herself.
You can’t have your cake and eat it too.
Lyanna Oak did not want cake.
She only wanted her mother back.
And maybe, if the fates allowed it, sleep.
Not just a good night once in a blue moon. Real, uninterrupted sleep.
Was that asking too much?
The sunchild tossed and turned in her bed, eyes scrunched against her pillow as she tried to wish away the miserable thoughts that plagued her mind. If the world stopped spinning, she would still be left with these very same daunting prospects and insomnia. One might deem it strange, that grief disappeared as slowly as a leaf falling from a tree, oh so high up. The taller the tree, the more hurt can be inflicted on it and the longer it takes for the leaf to hit the ground. A seedling, however, may not yet have leaves at all, having no slack and simply perishing from the initial blow.
Lyanna was strong, but she had a fatal flaw that would always leave scars. In many ways, this attribute could be used for good, to feel compassion and ever so much joy, and to help people whenever given the chance to. But when in pain, when others were in pain, the entire world seemed to melt before her eyes, glass shattering all around her in a room of mirrors, the pillars to her happiness crumbling to the ground
The trait in question is the ability to feel, truly and oh so much more profoundly than most.
It was both a blessing and a curse.
An eye for an eye.
But an eye for an eye and the whole world goes blind.
Will this be her fate? Or will the sunchild break loose from these chains?
Only a few months ago had a certain @Archer Duncan disclosed a priceless solution to the lack of dreams throughout the night, eyes remaining wide-open, starlight reflecting off the tears trickling down her moon-touched cheeks. Children are told by their parents that if you lay in bed long enough, you will eventually fall asleep. For many young souls that may prove to be true, but Lyanna was not one of them. Maybe after hours she would manage to doze off into a nightmare, but tell me, oh muse, is that truly better than staying awake?
This ingenious solution proved no simpler than sneaking a few ingredients on the way out of the dungeons, a potion awaiting to be brewed in a certain sunchild’s cauldron. It had started small, a drink here and there when the night became too unbearable– but the effects were so potent, it was difficult to keep her hands away from the vials she had stored the first brew in, now that it had been made. After all, the intentions were good, and oh how easy it was to convince herself to take just one more dose at 2am on yet another sleepless night.
The potion was labeled Dreamless Sleep.
If one does not dream, what happens to them? Is that what death feels like, painless but hollow; void of both joy and sorrow; tears from neither hurt nor happiness; no past to hide from, no future to look forward to?
If one does not dream, how do they feel the scorching heat of the sun, the bitter cold on a mid-winter day, the emotion of writing a paragraph for a character that does not even truly exist outside of their heart of hearts and the wiping of tears along with it?
If one does not dream, one cannot live, truly.
But to live, one must begin with survival. And despite the numbness in her soul, Lyanna Oak could continue to survive with such desolation and anguish buried so deeply in her soul.
It all started with a will as strong as steel, a mind that when set would not turn back. Departing her dormitory without a sound, the carpeted floor beneath her muffling her footsteps, the sunchild entered curfewed territory. Now away from the safe haven of her warm bed, there were only two goals clouding the front of her mind.
Steal the ingredients.
Don’t get caught.
Lyanna did not fear the darkness that enveloped her; walking through the corridors at night was not a new experience for the young teenager. On most occasions, however, it was the front doors that greeted her at such a late hour, her lungs taking in the fresh air, a way to finally breathe once more. This was different. Deeper and deeper into the depths of the underground chambers of the castle did she go, until the potions classroom was in sight.
Entering, the storeroom itself was naturally latched, but Lyanna was prepared for such, having brought with her a specially crafted artifact known as a Locksmith’s Knife. The lock clicked as the door swung open, scents of many different origins wafted into her nostrils, slightly dizzying as she took it all in. The vast collection of powders and aromas looked different without the candles dispersing light throughout the room, almost as if ready to be brewed by moonlight.
Quickly reading the tags and searching for the ingredients she needed, the sunchild could only hope professor Arasmalaya was a heavy sleeper.
It may not have been wise to break curfew, but Lyanna did not question her decision, as she carefully added the ingredients to specially designed pockets on the inside of her trenchcoat.
All’s well that ends well.
But what the sunchild hadn’t expected, was the soul destined to enter the stage next.
