She was barely visible as the gray waves viciously swirled around her, roaring and crashing through the air while she sat perfectly still. A gale of wind was tearing at her hair, creating wild shadows on the wall and turning everything to ice. Her eyes were steely and their color fluctuated with those of the storm. She stared straightforward, her gaze never breaking, seemingly searching for still waters, or at least a break in the storm.

She held all of the ocean in her heart, and every storm, every calm, every ripple, and every wave was driven by the thoughts that occupied her. Never knowing when the peace would come, or how long it would stay, sometimes turned her heart into an inhospitable port. When the waters were calm, it was the perfect place to lay anchor, but when the winds began to gather no boat was long to stay. When it all became too much, the storm would rush out all at once; her heart living outside her body.

And it was all so alive. She felt every droplet of mist fall on her skin, and every strand of her hair lifted by the wind. While her heart turned the world around her to chaos, her body stayed perfectly still. Once the gray clouds rolled into view and the midnight water began to thrash, there was nothing she could do but ride out the storm.

The black waves would inevitably soak everything they touched and the winds would tear down what was left. If she did not maintain her quiet position, the destruction would spread and then the storm would not only soak her– it would sweep all of those around her to some distant shore. She just needed to hold fast and wait for the waters to calm themselves. Experience had shown that nobody, no matter the quality of their vessel, could withstand the waves and her voice could never be heard above the wind. Those that had been caught in the storms of the past had been washed away, never heard from again.

Eventually, the storm would carry itself away, as it always did. The tidal waves would turn to ripples and the gales that had terrorized those around her would find their way back to a breeze. The calm would return, and she would pick up the pieces. It would happen suddenly: for days she would find herself adrift, and then one morning the storm would be gone.


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