Fifteen Pages

by NaiadSagaIotaOar

II

The second page was somewhat different from the rest, marked by few letters. The page would have been pitifully ordinary if it had been filled with something so commonplace as letters—and the day it was filled in was as far from normal as it could have been.

So, on this page, there were drawings. Sketches, really—feeling more than thinking. There were grand, sweeping mountains and castles of gleaming gold. The sun shone overhead, peaking through misty morning clouds and raining glorious yellow on a field of lush green.

The drawings themselves were… less than masterful. The hand that drew them was used to flowing gowns, not sprawling landscapes. But that hadn’t mattered.

At the top, in that same graceful script that filled the rest of the diary, were the words that had prompted it all: “I know it’s probably hard for you to believe, but I come from a world where there’s magic and dragons and palaces, and one day, I’m going to be its queen.”

On this page, there was scrawled a flight of fancy, a vision of dreamy delights. A storybook paradise, only this one was real. And though it was a whole world away, it had felt close enough to touch, that day that it had been drawn.

But the castles were not the most important part. The mountains weren’t either, and the sun was a pretty—but trifling—bauble.

The real centerpiece of the drawings were the two scratchy silhouettes that ran, hand-in-hand, from a swirling vortex of color. The silhouettes bore few features, but one was marked with deep, luxurious purple, and the other with fiery scarlet slashed with yellow.

Comments

[Shortmane]

For some reason that last line--that last image--that really pulled me in, there's something enchanting about it.

[Tethered-Angel]

That imagery is lovely. But that quote, you can already see Sunset's arrogance, even now.