"i am full of fire
i demand to be heard
and i will not extinguish myself
because you’re afraid of being burned"
her mother calls her a hurricane; she's disordered chaos that destroys quickly and may come back for another. her father used to say she's a wildfire; she spreads, devours, but she burns out. she says to herself that she's a slower disaster than they know; she's something softer but just as devastating.
she's a blizzard; dazzling, intricate, mesmerising, but relentless and overwhelming. she's an earthquake; a tremor that cracks the earth deep and waiting for the right time to split. she a ripple in the water causing a wave; she crashes against and erodes anything too close to her.
whatever she is, she wants to be heard. she wants to be seen. she wants someone to look. she needs the attention; she seeks, she nags and she craves.
in the castle of haven where she lives with her mother, she wants for nothing. sometimes her father visits, but she knows nothing of the outside world. she knows the bones, she follows the spine of the beast until she's told to stop. her aunt cautions her to keep to herself, she's told by an uncle she shouldn't invade their space. she's always being told she's taking up too much time; she's being annoying and loud. when she tugs at her grandmother's skirt, she's shooed away by her grandfather and when she turns to him, another uncle comes to take her back to her mother.
it's a common enough command. she's told simply to just -- stop. she never does and tears through bonespell, demanding her family to be one. she jumps on her uncle's beds and she tips over her aunt's perfume pots. she begs her mother to play dress-up and hold her.
her mother never picks her up and she stands on her own.
there are losses she barely mourns. she's not cruel, she's selfish. the death of her grandparents and father mark distinct changes for her. she leaves the castle and her homeland behind. her mother says there's no reason to stay; there's no reason for any of them to stay. her mother tells her that one of her uncles will stay and rule over the waste none of them care for.
with her father gone, there's a home for her mother and her in the thunderlands. she asks if anyone else is coming with them; her mother says to say her goodbyes because they won't see her uncles, aunts, cousins, again. they're not keeping in contact; there's no point.
everything is lights. it's bright and for once she's not the loud one. everyone is loud now. they shout to each other, at each other and about each other. she soaks it in, she's hungry for the eyes on her. she wants to be drank; she wants to intoxicate.
everyone talks about meeting next, doing lunches and just catching up to chat. everyone in her circle exchanges information, always open and constantly in motion. she's needy and it's swallowed by the company she keeps.
everywhere she turns there are people, a constant stream of them, so she forgets how to be lonely. the word alone no longer has meaning for her.
her mother was already considered old when she had her. it's no surprise when her mother passes away, but it hurts. she wanted to be close to her mother, she wanted that for so long, but that wasn't her how her family was built. they prove it to her. they shove it in her face and leave her to pick herself up after a loss she feels.
there's not a single family member that left haven when her mother did, she can contact. and when she tries, she's sent short and curt messages to forget the addresses she's been flooding with letters and a need for people that should be familiar to her.
the last uncle, the one in bonespell, never writes her back. he doesn't say he doesn't care that her mother died and he doesn't drive her away. his silence gives her hope. he's a ruler after all -- he could be busy.
she plans her return to the desert she fled. she packs and she talks to friends, they grow uninterested and mention when she's back they can party. she pushes aside her disappointment and she convinces herself there's still a family waiting for her in her childhood home.