when even strangers knew our names

((RP MODE))

At the end of days, at the end of time
When the Sun burns out will any of this matter?



This, then, the land given us, the land in the far place, far from our old habitations. This the land bordered by all things not us, not ours, not created from our hands.

This, then, the land leaving our grasp.

Who will be there to remember who we were?
Who will be there to know that any of this had meaning for us?



The sithen never grown by word of Queen or courtier, the Ravens never gathered, the Sidhe never called. Did she know, my Queen? Did she know all along?

And in retrospect I'll say we've done no wrong
Who are we to judge what's right and what has purpose for us?



The wild night pulls at me, urging wings to fly, urging words from my throat, in languages I may never have known, that no one but the Queen might know...and I speak nothing, I do not move, I stand and breathe and look.

With designs upon ourselves to do no wrong
Running wild unaware of what might come of us



Not our land, no longer.

We assess no blame to the Empress; dandelions are made for mobility, nomads to wander and bloom and blow again, travel their coin, bright color their joy made form. We give her all honor for even the momentary use of her land, to gather our strength.

The Sun was born, so it shall die
So only shadows comfort me
I know in darkness I will find you giving up inside like me



But I, I am not sure it is enough. We are so few in this place, and we hear rumors of others rising, other branches of the Sidhe, Unseelie and otherwise. Do they remember the truth of us? Do they remember we were once more than cruelty and blood?

Do we remember we were once more? I do, I know, I was called as I am, dark and bright both, the woman who bled, the wronged who tortured, the dancer in the darkness, the lover on the green.

I know. I remember.

Each day shall end as it begins
And though you're far away from me
I know in darkness I will find you giving up inside like me



Clouds race overhead and the moon is bright and full, shining down silver as a new-minted coin. All the better to look, and note this place that I, at least, shall miss. One more forgotten home, soon, but I will remember. I always remember.

The Sun was born, so it shall die
So only shadows comfort me
I know in darkness I will find you giving up inside like me



Dandelion seeds puff past me as I sit on the land, thinking. Home is where you find it, I think, and Home is where, when you go there, they have to take you in. But these are human notions.

Each day shall end as it begins
And though you're far away from me
I know in darkness I will find you giving up inside like me



Though it is true, the Unseelie, all the fae-born, they, we, are connected to the land, to nature, to the passing of seasons. What are we without the land around us? Trapped in boxes of wood and stone, steel and iron--what are we then?

Can we hold longer, our so-small Court, scattered to a dozen different lands, forgetting that we once knew a single ruler and traveled at the whim of her will? When she calls next, will we hear her and come?

Without a thought I will see everything eternal
Forget that once we were just dust from heavens far



I do not know. I know I heard another call, and traveled in the odd form this release, this mourning for the lost had given me, only to face another potential loss to come.

The form, the face, I'd consigned myself never to see again, and now, I barely recognized it. Creeping from floor to floor after hours, slipping past the somnolent nurse on duty--that was the easy part.

Finding the right floor, that was trickier, but--to be fair, there was only one locked ward room that glowed green.

As we were forged we shall return, perhaps some day
I will remember us and wonder who we were



And no counting how long I stood there with only my circling thoughts for company. The crackling warmth on the air, the tingle along my skin's surface I had bitter understanding of, altering my very cells even as I stood there, let alone moved closer.

And no idea if I should stay or go. My healing skills were not the best on the best days, and all of them seemed to require contact, and...

...such poison, now, in that immortal form. I remained unconvinced I could force myself closer. Eventually, with heavy heart, I turned and left, creeping out the same way I'd come, and winging far away from Regency.

Winging my way home. Or one of them, anyway.

This, then, too, perhaps...leaving our grasp.

(Lyrics taken from VNV Nation's End of Days.)