✧ stars in your eyes

The trek was no easy feat. If nothing else, that she could discern. Distracted and windswept, the gods tore at her resolve without care. Testing her, goading her, proving her worthy as she scaled. The land only assisted, catching or encouraging her to stumble. However would she make it to the complete top, to touch the stars? Runar spoke of the danger, but Twyla was adamant. Something in her needed this. Needed something to connect her more than the simple strands of her heart tethered to the sky.

A white lily wavered within her maw as it battled the wind, and a whimper escaped her as a petal was plucked from its center. Defeated again, the woman descended, the wind sweeping away any hazards littering the path. It should've frustrated her that even the mountain did not think her adequate, but she was still settling—still new. If Runar was right, it was not only her Star Mother pulling her strings, but others. too. Whether they preyed on her downfall or meant to lift her up, she had yet to discern.

Nevertheless, the woman accepted the unspoken advice and settled on a lower perch instead. With a huff and the soft draw of her brows, she nudged the lily over the side, mutedly watching the wind drift it away.

---

@Tove

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Twyla did not know what she must do, in truth. The tests, constructed by either her Star Mother or the mountain itself, seemed never-ending, profoundly adamant in their efforts to keep her beneath a certain level. Normally, usually, the woman wouldn't mind. She trusted both, but even Twyla couldn't help but find doubt—not in her faith, but in herself. What did she lack? What more needed to be done? Would she ever even crest beyond a certain point? The idea of it was daunting, the idea of failing completely—terrifying.

Regret would find its way within, squirming between the small crevices of her composure. She was no lost soul, but in this moment, in every moment that left her no closer than she'd started—defeated—Twyla did not know what to do. She did not know where her faith was meant to take her, did not know what it was that her Star Mother yearned to tell her. And even as strong of a woman as she, starbound to her skies, there would always be the question of what more. What more to give, what more to be done.

How much would Twyla have to give up? Anything, Everything? And if she gave everything, what would be left? What was she worth if she had nothing left to give?

The woman sighed, suddenly so overcome with everything beyond her reach that she was slow in realizing another was amidst the mountain, too. She was safe, Vanderfell had afforded her that, and it was a grace she took greedily. Their words, drifting upon the wind, urged her head to the side as a woman—Tove, she recognized—swept over the terrain.

There was a beat, a pause, and then a soft warmth at the realization that she was not alone in her endeavors. Others tried, others failed. “Twyla thinks...it hard not to notice. But strength there, strength to try. Even when fail.” If nothing else, they could be rewarded with the strength they deserve.

Her lips pulled into a small smile, head shifting back to the ravine. “Tove try? To reach stars or to fly?” Though she appeared dressed in starlight, Twyla would not so quickly assume the other held faith. Held love for the sky as she did. She simply dwelled in the idea that she was not alone, even if both women found themselves pressed beneath the weight of it all.

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Twyla's gaze sought out the stars overhead with a low-hung smile. So close, and yet, so beyond their reach. Tempting and goading them with dapples of hope and light only for them to disappear when they were most needed, when they were most yearned for. The acolyte wondered then, if there was a place—a place where the stars never hid, always there, always tangible. An intangible dream, she knew, but one she thought of all the same.

Did this woman, someone who basked in the starlight herself, think of the same? Or was she too hindered by the leash of expectation, the restraints of reality? Weren't they all? So limited, so lost, so full of discourage when they were capable of such greatness.

Home. She'd said. Twyla found herself more attentive in that moment, wondering of the stars she found such comfort within. If their stars were the same.

And then, “Know her? Star Mother?” Because what other She could she be speaking of? What other goddess amidst the stars did she find herself yearning for?

“Star Mother forgets none, Twyla thinks. But some...lost in life. Lost in hard things. Lost in soul.” They would find themselves back home again, she was sure. Just as every soul meant to did.

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