She took a breath waiting for life to halt, to curl tenderly and allow the warmth of whistling lips to soothe it. She felt chaos within herself, of straining fire writhing and snaking around each other, rather than the cool rushing water of before.
She felt that she needed to grasp herself to tame it, gain back the purpose and drive so lost, even herself like golden scales. She knew that these times would pass, as would all, and she was ashamed her choices were wrong.
She pushed this aside to see the glittering veil of the present, swept away by wind and replaced with another sheet, the same landscape and dark trees and shadows upon grass. Did it matter so greatly, when the black scythe lurked just beyond these curtains, these tapestries of time?
She was strong if only others believed she was, for the world was beautiful only if people thought it so. There was no objectivity, no defining truth - simply versions upon versions layered like a cake.
She pressed these thoughts away and took another breath.