Vucim

Rose Quartz Minerals & Ores A rose quartz by any other name would smell as sweet- ...why are you smelling quartz? 70

"There was in me, a beautiful space, where I wish I had you. But there was a drain, that continuously stole all the beauty in the world. Where did you go?"

I recall seeing my mother rush outside, leaving me standing there bewildered, as she emptied her stomach onto the lush grass, barely missing the painstakingly-trimmed berry bushes my father had pruned earlier that day. The breeze carried her tears away, and she seemed to sway along with it, visibly pale and shaken. The words just tumbled out of my mouth: “I want to fight.” Was it trauma that stemmed from her years as an exalt escort? That she was afraid to lose her child? That I could not answer, for all I knew was that she was not going to let me go. My father said the same - they both forbade me from fighting in the war.

So I left.

Why should they stifle my quest to do good? To fight. Fly as high as I can, help others. Was I blinded? Sometimes I wonder if it had been the way I was brought up by my father who never took off his rose-tinted glasses. In my sepia-tinged memories, he always seemed to be distant and happy, eluded with naivety. I could not fathom how he could sustain such a smile when his partner was rarely there. He behaved as if her feelings were insignificant, going to fairs and parks with my siblings and I in tow. My mother spiraled down deeper into grief, and it became clear that it was probably his fault for her disappearance laden with despair.

As my claws scrambled through the carpet of autumn leaves, all I could think was to fight for my mother’s death. To fight for justice, the right thing to do. I would do the things for my mother that she never had. Such thoughts to outdo my father ran faster than the pace I was running at. Until I slammed face-first onto the ground, tripping over a root. I froze there, before letting out a dry chuckle entirely devoid of emotion. All sorts of emotions suddenly crashed upon me at once. A pretty creature with a rosy pelt suddenly found its way into my wings, nuzzling against me as I sat there, numb. I was overcome with a sudden warmth that spread all around. “Rose is a good name if you’re going to stay with me,” I gently smoothed her fluffy coat, a smile tugging on my lips. The familiar seemed to agree, nudging me gently with her antlers to keep going. What more could I do than go?

I never stood in the front lines, in the coli team. But I had made it so far, and every day was a step closer to becoming who I wanted to be. Sometimes I wonder how my father was doing. It pains me to think of how my mother died too. It is a selfish thought. I was told she climbed to the top of a crumbling tower, the rain battering her body. It sounded almost poetic, but reality was never poetic. It was prosaic, dull, like a flitting candle with little wax left to burn. So I hold up a solemn mask, eyes revealing nothing but seriousness, only unleashing emotions in any training for war. In the hope to contribute and do good.

Now, as I sit here telling you my story and stroking Rose’s fur, know that my name Vucim means that I never frown.

But I don’t know when I’ll ever truly feel happy again.

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Breed change 03.01.19
Skydancer --> Nocturne