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<title>Cetra - Archive - MayVaneDay Studios</title>
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<meta name="author" content="Vane Vander">
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<body class="mayvaneday">
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<p><h1>Cetra</h1></p>
<p>published: 2019-08-22</p>
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<p>The walls of the cave glistened with moisture residue. Like the inside of a mouth, almost, jaws open wide to swallow her whole.</p>
<p>The woman before her, resting on the rough stone slab, sucked in another heavy wet breath. Ragged exhale, limbs splayed over the edge, languishing like a ghost in a flowy white dress. Her skin was pale, almost sheet-white, accentuating the teardrop sapphire embedded in her forehead.</p>
<p>"Cetra," she whispered. "Come closer."</p>
<p>"Y-yes, Mother." Cetra flew to the woman's side and took a knee, head bowed, eyes barely visible under her hood. "What does my Demiurge require of me?"</p>
<p>"Cetra..." the woman breathed, not taking note of her young companion's words. Her hand reached out, summoning just enough strength to push the hood back, exposing the young Tailtiutian's glossy blue hair, single braid disappearing into the rest of her robe. "You came at just the right time. Not a moment too late. I hate to leave you in this condition."</p>
<p>Cetra's eyes flashed. Her head shot up. "You-"</p>
<p>"The state of this world is... too dangerous for me for now. Cetra..." The goddess brushed a few stray strands of hair out of Cetra's panicked eyes. "I'm going to sleep for a long time. I know not when I'll awake, if ever..." Her eyelids fluttered, as if her head was already pleading with her to fall into the arms of Morpheus. "I'm entrusting the task of protecting this cave- of protecting <em>me</em>- to you."</p>
<p>"I- I don't know if I can-"</p>
<p>"You can."</p>
<p>"H-how can you be sure, Mother?"</p>
<p>A faint flicker of a smile. "Because I know I can. And anything I can do, you can do... also."</p>
<p>The last word came out in a cough. The goddess' head lolled onto her elbow, eyes slid shut, finally at the limit of her energy, succumbed to exhaustion.</p>
<p>Cetra bolted to her feet, shook the woman's shoulders. "Mother?"</p>
<p>No response.</p>
<p>"Mother!" Cetra cried. "Don't... don't leave me alone in this world."</p>
<p><em>Who will sing in the depths of the night if you're gone?</em></p>
<p><em>Who will appease the other Shards?</em></p>
<p><em>I... I don't have a strong voice like you do.</em></p>
<p>Her mother's arms began to glow. Cetra stepped back, shielding her eyes with one arm, tears pricking in her eyes. There was no need to watch. It had happened to countless gods before her, and would happen to countless more after she was dead- a long time, if that, but it would come eventually. Earthly organs coming to a halt, skin turning to stone, mind falling silent. Statuebound until some sliver of her soul left conscious deemed it safe to come back out again.</p>
<p>Cetra turned to the entrance to the crypt. The robe swooshed around her legs. A light pricked in the darkness, entry to the cave far off. A single star to guide her home.</p>
<p>She pulled the hood back over her head.</p>
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<p align=right>CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 &copy; Vane Vander</p>
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<title>¡corre! - Archive - MayVaneDay Studios</title>
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<meta name="author" content="Vane Vander">
<meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width, initial-scale=1.0">
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<body class="mayvaneday">
<article>
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<p><h1>¡corre!</h1></p>
<p>published: 2016-05-02</p>
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<p>You.</p>
<p>That's right, you.</p>
<p>You showed up on my doorstep like a shooting star, speckled with all the colors of the sunset- you could have been a factory reject of that evening's skybound hues from the bruises and battered limbs that greeted me that unfortunate end-of-day.</p>
<p>You waited patiently on the front porch, curled up on top of the welcome mat, as I rushed back inside to find a worn blanket to spread over the couch. The splotches adorning your torn lips squeezed and contracted as I scooped you back up in my arms and laid you down in the space I so hastily prepared. The angels that the elders said always watched us must not know how to speak English, for strange and unintelligible lisps escaped from your mouth as your head softly landed on the pillow.</p>
<p>Whence did you come? Your skin is too soft to have been hardened in the furnaces and infernos for eternity, and no god that I know of would allow one of his angelic creations to come to such harm. The scraggly appendages hidden under your shirt are weakened but intact- either you left of your own will, in which case I cannot for the life of me comprehend the reasons, or the other dimension on the other side of death is spring cleaning. But why would they throw out one such as you? And where are the others? Do you know?</p>
<p>The flames in your eyes dance back and forth as your attention drifts to my face. I must be a puff of wind like those driving the puffy chariots across the sky, because something in your irises flickers. For the first time that evening, your gaze doesn't look glassy and otherworldly.</p>
<p>You raise one hand up to my face, and I realize that in your sweatshirt is a jagged and torn hole plastered to your skin with drying blood. A few drops of scarlet leak onto the carpet- freshly cleaned yesterday as your vision clears and you finally comprehend your surroundings.</p>
<p>You clench a fistful of my hair in your raised fist and gently drag me down near to your own face. Your lips part- I can tell from the gust that rings in my ears. I close my eyes in anticipation of a kiss, but what follows us more adept at stealing my breath away in a single syllable.</p>
<p>"Run."</p>
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<p align=right>CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 &copy; Vane Vander</p>
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