O, Heliades, your tears flow once more down your poplar bark ragged, Cries hushed forever below the brown wood of your transformèd eyes. Phaethon, your brother, lies cold in the tomb ringèd round by your thicket, Phaethon, that poor boy, that golden-haired mortal who once rode the sky.
O, Heliades, for what do you mourn? Seas polluted to poison? Is it your brother— poor fool— who had wingèd too close to the stars? Is it the blazing of forests that makes your tears fall from your lashes? Fire like the flames that wreathed Phaethon, drowned down in the watery dark?
O, Heliades, we tortured the sky, turned the rain into acid, Bleeding and breaking and taking as earth turned to dust down below. Will you yet cry for us when in our haste we become our undoing? Or will your tears cease your breath of relief? when we leave you alone to your grove?
Well, I am officially out of prewritten material. I'll now have to post as I write. If the next chapter's late, it's not because I've stopped writing-- I'm just slow. Sorry in advance! I used to go to my dad's neighborhood basketball games, and I always jumped at the buzzer. It really is loud.
Happy New Year! Let's hope this one goes smoother than the last two. Don't worry, the story continues! I don't think I can get through a story without putting the main character in mortal peril at least once before snatching them back to safety. I'd feel bad, but it's too much fun.
As every week passes, the closer I get to the end of my already-written content. I'm starting to worry. I guess I should kick my brain in gear and get writing. Things are getting interesting (finally)! The plot's just going to get weirder and weirder from here on out. I hope in a good way.
Watercolor and pen with white acrylic for the snow (this poor bird is terribly out of season... you should probably be in Mexico right now, buddy! Sorry to stick you in the snow) (Thanks to Google for my reference)
This chapter ended up kinda long. There wasn't a good place to stop, so I just kept going. How do you deal with your best friend being terminally ill? I have trouble writing Buck's character sometimes, because I can't imagine how he must feel and don't know how he should react. On that happy note, let's get started!
