(no subject)
She was back in Maghrib, back in her apartment with the bookshelves and the couches and tables, with her drawings and maps on the walls and the curtain billowing in the late afternoon breeze.
She stood there, in the middle of the large main room, hands on her hips, and felt...odd. Odd, and strangely out of place. This had been home, once. Her Amber-that-Wasn't. Fiona walked over to the balcony and leaned on the railing, watching the city and letting the wind tease her curls from her braid. And still, the feeling of oddness didn't grow away. If nothing, it grew and grew until she muttered a curse and walked back inside. Dropping herself on the couch, she tried to get comfortable, tried to understand why she felt like a stranger like an adult like standing in a child's room her room of old but instead of pink with fairies and unicorns it was an apartment in a city in a world in a desert which she loved still yes no oh yes nothing can change that this was her home-away-from-home the home she created dancing and laughing because she can do this created it and loved it and watched it grow ran to it clung to it princess sultana goddess librarian even wife and mother with her daughter's grave long since gone but she was a child then in a child's world a girl's world not a woman's a romantic world of dreams and veils and harsh beauty for solitude and she wants more wants a family wants Julian and children and wants a home and this wasn't home this used to be but wasn't too small now too small and cramped with old dreams and hopes and loves and she wants to start again and she wants to
get
OUT
like she had, somehow, left her world behind. Like she had grown up.
(in an hour or so, Fiona will get up and start packing her things. Books and drawings, maps and paintings, cutlery and clothes. Strip the bed, pack everything into boxes that she creates and shrinks everything with her mother's spell. When the sun has set and the moon has risen, Fiona will slide everything into her backpack and pick up her guitar case and lock the door behind her for the very last time...
But for the moment, she sits and mourns for something that passed when she wasn't watching)
She stood there, in the middle of the large main room, hands on her hips, and felt...odd. Odd, and strangely out of place. This had been home, once. Her Amber-that-Wasn't. Fiona walked over to the balcony and leaned on the railing, watching the city and letting the wind tease her curls from her braid. And still, the feeling of oddness didn't grow away. If nothing, it grew and grew until she muttered a curse and walked back inside. Dropping herself on the couch, she tried to get comfortable, tried to understand why she felt like a stranger like an adult like standing in a child's room her room of old but instead of pink with fairies and unicorns it was an apartment in a city in a world in a desert which she loved still yes no oh yes nothing can change that this was her home-away-from-home the home she created dancing and laughing because she can do this created it and loved it and watched it grow ran to it clung to it princess sultana goddess librarian even wife and mother with her daughter's grave long since gone but she was a child then in a child's world a girl's world not a woman's a romantic world of dreams and veils and harsh beauty for solitude and she wants more wants a family wants Julian and children and wants a home and this wasn't home this used to be but wasn't too small now too small and cramped with old dreams and hopes and loves and she wants to start again and she wants to
get
OUT
like she had, somehow, left her world behind. Like she had grown up.
(in an hour or so, Fiona will get up and start packing her things. Books and drawings, maps and paintings, cutlery and clothes. Strip the bed, pack everything into boxes that she creates and shrinks everything with her mother's spell. When the sun has set and the moon has risen, Fiona will slide everything into her backpack and pick up her guitar case and lock the door behind her for the very last time...
But for the moment, she sits and mourns for something that passed when she wasn't watching)