[Gylfie] The Whisper

Eden was her home. Gylfie had never enjoyed the pleasures and riches of the Elysium; in fact, she had never stepped foot in the golden splendor that the angelic realm had to offer. Sure, the realm surrounded Eden and basked the “lesser realm” in its “marvelous, generous glory,” but quite honestly, Gylfie scoffed at it all. Gylfie’s own mother had despised her as a child and then, once Gylfie was old enough to make her own decisions, her same mother came crawling back to her, begging for forgiveness. Yet, what love had Ælfthryth ever offered to her? What forgiveness was she asking for? Gylfie had none to offer, so she left her mother behind. Now, she stood on the edge of a cliff atop a high, snow capped mountain, gazing out over Eden with scrutiny in her narrowed eyes. Something called to her, a small voice in the wind. 

Although Gylfie heard the voice, she turned away from it, stepping back into the cavern she called her home (for now). It was sparsely decorated with only a few muted rugs for comfort on the floor and necessities on the walls. Gylfie preferred the snow, so she spent most of her days outside. Her twin Twitterpitters chirped at her as she stepped in and she looked over at them, her heart softening as she cooed at her. “Hello, dearies,” she said lovingly, using one finger to gently stroke their heads. “I hope you all have been behaving yourselves, today.” Vi and Fee were the only things in this world that Gylfie found she had an affection for. Truth be told, she had never interacted with any other Phims besides her mother, whom she hated. She sometimes ventured into places where Phims resided within Eden, hearing tales and whispers, but all she heard was gossip and cruelness. However, listening in had allowed her to hear rumors of her other parent on the wind, her mother’s partner who had gone missing at Gylfie’s birth. For some reason, she held onto the smallest shred of hope that maybe this mysterious Phim would love her. 

Gylfie’s ear twitched. The voice had returned, calling louder this time. Her name, “Gylfie….,” like a ghost whispering behind her back. She despised it. “How do I get you to go away,” she murmured, and the voice responded, “Come, and I will let you be as you were.”

Gylfie made a hurmph sound and looked back at her birds, who sat snuggled together on their perch. “I’ll be right back, you two,” she said softly, then stepped back out on the cliff face, spread her wide, double wings, and took flight. The flight was not long and she landed with hardly a noise at the foot of a large tree that vaguely reminded her of the Elysium. She looked at it with curiosity, a relic of a land she had never been to herself. But here it was, in the land she had always belonged to. Her eyes slowly moved to the fruit hanging from the tree and she perched herself on her back legs and reached up, slowly removing one from its branch. As she was inspecting it in her talons, a voice from the tree caused her to look up.

“So, you finally came,” it said with a purr. “How would you like to gain the knowledge of the gods?”

“Uhh,” Gylfie said. “Don’t know, don’t care.” She waved the fruit in her paw at the creature and then took a bite, tasting its sweetness and the strange black juice that ran out of it. “Thanks for the angel fruit, though. It’s great.” With that, she turned, spread her wings again and took off, flapping away back towards her mountains, leaving the creature behind with a surprised and dazed expression.