Time Conquers All

[morrigan]

Silence. It was a rare thing within a city of any size, but it did happen. Even more rare where any sort of animal could be found. And yet it seemed in the deepest hours of the night, when all should have been asleep, even the horses were quiet. The utter lack of sound was.. oppressive, yet peaceful in its own way. Morrigan contemplated this as she sat in the darkness, feeling the heavy blanket of nothingness lay across her. How long until the sunrise? She didn't know. Time had almost ceased to flow, from when she'd slipped in there, found a spot against the wall, and slid down to rest on the floor. She was far from alone; the massive Irish wolfhound had followed her, as always, and lay beside her on the ground, his head on her lap. One small hand, calloused from long years of hard work, lay still on his shaggy-haired head as he slept.

There were bodies all around, and yet she felt.. distant. Displaced. Earthen hues stared almost blankly into the shadows across from her, where she knew there was a wall, yet the lack of light hid it from her, even despite the adjustment of her eyes to the darkness. She was looking beyond the wall, to the place where her thoughts hovered, restless and listless all at once. Home. Turas Lan was home, now.. right? She told herself it was. That her steps had led her here, to those her heart had sought, and now she'd found them... Surely that was home, wasn't it? Not a place of wood and stone, but with those your heart called family, whether it be in the bowels of the earth or upon the highest mountain. Her father had always told her this.. and for all his simple nature, Braden Stirling was a wise man. A man of the earth. Even her mother's kin in Eire hadn't been able to deny that, or dislike the man, despite his stealing away their dearest Eithne. They'd told her as much, during the months she'd spent with them, recovering from her illness.

A frown quirked the corners of her lips as these thoughts fully encompassed her mind. Her illness... That blasted fever that had stolen nearly a year of her life from her. A year that she would never get back. Her jaw clenched. She knew that was the source of her sense of.. not belonging. What was one supposed to do, when they lost so much time? It seemed even longer than that, for after she'd recovered her health.. she'd immediately left her kin in Eire, and taken to wandering. Searching. Almost another full year, spent in walking, and catching the occasional ride from a farmer with room in his cart.. sleeping beneath bushes, in haystacks.. and rarely, in a barn, when she could exchange labor for a hot meal and a night in out of the wild. That wasn't living.. that was a transition. And now.. now...

She didn't know how to live anymore.

So much had happened. It had all passed her by. People she'd known were wed, and had children. And she.. she hadn't changed at all. She was still just.. Morrigan. Little Ana. The quiet, shy lass with the deep eyes. "Eyes like th' soul o' a tree, that'n 'as. Just like 'er mam, they be. She looks sae like Eithne..." Her aunt Carrigan's voice rang in her ears, almost as though the woman were standing right there next to her.

Dragging in a deep breath, her hands curled into loose fists as she felt an unfamiliar, and entirely unwelcome prickling behind her eyes. This frustration! It would be the death of her, someday, she was sure, but she would not let it get the best of her.

Somewhere in the darkness, a horse neighed. A hoof stamped upon hay-covered earth with a muffled thump. Beyond the stables, a night-bird trilled its mournful lullaby. The cold nose of Liath nudged against her hand.. and she sighed. There was no use worrying over what had passed, though what she could never regain gnawed at her sanity.

All she could do was look forward.

Time conquers all.. that was a good lesson for her.

Life was hers for the taking. And she would grasp it with both hands.