Night Before Phei Woke Up...
Eira watched the woman through the window, feeling a quiet ache that made her wonder if her own sense of autonomy was just as fragile and enervating.
To be that: to exist as nothing more than a living weapon with excellent posture. Following orders could be enervating.
And most importantly, it sometimes felt as though such beings possessed no life of their own outside the immediate marionette duties assigned by their masters, mistresses, or whatever saccharine nomenclature they draped over the arrangement to make the collar look like jewellery.
Eira knew this intimately.
She was, after all, a spirit. A bound entity. An Elemental Fairy tethered to the volition of a sovereign by rules older than the language she used to curse them.
