Life=Omlets

Every now and then, life equals omlets. The universe dishes out to you the worst that it can dream up and hands it over on a shining platter with its only words of comfort being "figure it out". Sometimes, it happens a lot, sometimes, not so much. Either way, when life equals omlets, we just have to walk those 3 blocks, drive those 5 miles, grab that idiot dog that you love so much, locate a goodhumor bar and sit down and talk to your best friend in the world. Be it you best friend from kindergarten, or the neighbor you consider your brother. Any way you throw it, you just gotta handle the omlets life dishes out with grace and somehow, figure it out.

Mauria stared bleakly ahead. Rain was washing wet and wild over the green mountains, the earth was gray, the sky overcast and it felt more like midnight than noon. The stained glass wasn't the best way to watch it all, the colors tried to make the woeful look at least the smallest bit hopeful. Mauria, for the most part, wasn't buying it. She missed Montoria. How when it rained their, it came down in droplets, not sheets. She missed the flat green plains, the pound of the ocean against the shoreline.

She was still weighing which was better: being free in a land you had no love for, or hiden in a land you called home from the top of your head to the tips of your toes. She squeezed her eyes shut. She didn't believe in crying over what couldn't be changed, so there was no point in crying over everything that she had lossed. She felt like she had when she had first come to Montoria all those years ago. Lost, with no connections, no names or any potential. After all that though, starting over felt good. After you cut your losses and freed yourself from everything that held you down, you flew, flew higher than the stars.

She remebered her first flight with Juthrath. It had felt like she had run her fingers through the silky strands of night sky and touched the jewels that filled it. After that, she had never thought of going back. Never once. With that train of thought, Mauria relized something. It wasn't so much that she missed home as she missed everythingbit stood for; Saura's dances, Regulairus's hard training sessions and his firm belief that brusises built character. Juthrath's glimmering white wings and the rolling grasses if the plains. The thrum of the sea and the rush of what it meant to be a Journeyer, what it meant to truly feel alive. 

She traiced the path of a stream of rain on the window. In Montoria, she had the remains of old memories. The life she led there had been based on a lie that she could hold onto all that, keep it part of the present. Funny how every now and then all it took was a nice slap in the face by reality. She smiled for the first time that day. She knew which was better. So long as you had to hide, you could never really be happy. Here she was free, and she would cherish that to the end of her days.