aesmael

Black and white fell away to faded yellow and chestnut hair. She dropped the name Magpie. She drifted here, and there, but never to her island. She was lost.

She did not dare speak to any one. She did not dare visit any familiar space. The sickly falling sensation she felt in her belly would not vanish

But she could not maintain her listlessness indefinitely. Inevitably she found herself drifting the way of things which might have held her interest. Inevitably she found her eyes watching with curiosity, idle first, but growing in attention. She could not divorce herself from the world no matter how she tried, or stop herself from considering it.

One of those things which caught her interest was a recreation of a rather famous story, made available for others to tour and explore. It had been built in great detail and, had she still been a magpie, she would have been thrilled to see so many ideas she could use.

Instead she explored, with little heart, a frozen moment in which the hero watches light flash upon a hill he will soon occupy. She walked around the characters' camp to look from all angles she could imagine, every thing so still it may as well be dead. In this place she could as easily step across to that hill, many miles away, as walk in the usual fashion and it seemed oh-so-briefly amusing to very deliberaely not do so.

A stick cracked under her shoe. She smiled. Such attention to detail. It had been so long, so long since she had touched. Since anything had felt real to her hands. But they were not real either, so why should it? She stared at her palms, marvelling at their ephemeral substance and longing for... something.

Such attention to detail, yet they had forgotten that when time stops, so should the ability to interact. Perhaps she should not have that power at all, not being a part of this story. She knelt beside the protagonist and her smile grew sadder. 'I could take it from you,' she thought. 'It would do no good, of course, because this is not real, but I am sure it would be very symbolic. I wonder what of?' She paused and followed his gaze to the hilltop, the light.

“You thought you were nearly done, didn't you?” Despite being alone, her voice was a whisper. “You thought you could carry it so far and be done. Leave it to others who would know better what to do. You had no idea how large it would grow or what it would take.” Jayde – for that had been her name, and would be again – hugged the figure quickly. “I am sorry. I never particularly empathised with you before. Not cool enough. Even the best of us can be blind and that is not I. Thank you. Haha.”

She thought it appropriate that she fly now, so that is how she left. Her island was not yet done.