[video/written]
[The journal is open and actively sketching the deep blue sky. Every few minutes, animated inky clouds drift across the page. Then there is a sudden close up of a paw as it flings out and hits the page, leaving behind a smeary red pawprint-]
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In a world that presents impossibilities, such would be... acceptable, if not expected. Still fragments and so-called memory linger.
...Lay quietly. Find the shadow's stretch, o fallen.
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[There is a significant pause before words appear, again.]
Light and dark linger together, in divide, on graves as well as anywhere. Waste not your blood onto page, if healing is your intention. And linger, if health be of your mind.
Light is supposedly the life force, after all.
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[A point is to be made here, one can note by the shift in ordinarily thoughtful script. As if to speak an infuriated truth, the words take up space and bleed ink deeper into the pages.
There is another pause, following her own, before words appear again.]
You speak a truth. There is life in shade as well as day. And there is a choice in preference. ...you shall be my own so long as you chose and give yourself. But recall, there is no shadow without the sun, and no stars without the night.
...wait for the eveningtide, and I will find you there. Save strength. Fate plays strange tricks, here, and I cannot account for what power I may lend you. Nor do I know what good such a thing would be.
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