Sep. 11th, 2009

goldenapples: (Default)
Was that what everyone called her behavior?

Most recently, she slept in the comforting branches of her tree, listening to the apples and the leaves whisper long forgotten lullabies. Plants don't talk, someone once said to her.

But they did. They did not talk words- so many of the things in the world did not speak words. The plants spoke in whispers and emotions, they spoke with the wind, and with smell. All of them talked so loudly, even the most self absorbed person would hear them at times.

It wasn't madness.

Was it mad that she was here at all? That she separated herself so far from who she truly was, that some almost believed her to be the wife of a cop, the mother of three? It was only as mad as the other things about her, so small and numerous that counting them would be an impossible task.

She didn't care. This was who she would always be.


Muse: Aolmunder Krullerdottir
Word Count: 163
Fandom: Mythology

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Idunna Aysnjur

July 2010

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