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Echo: In the old world she pressed her thumbprint on everything she touched, so no one would forget she had been there.
Now: She chose to grow instead of mark. Ferns and spirals curl through her green hair, and the only print she leaves now is new growth.
Juicy tidbit: The fingerprint over her Echo eye is her own, and it is slowly turning into a tree ring. She says when it finishes, she'll know she has finally let go.
Orlie used to believe that being remembered was the same as mattering. Then the seam caught her, and the old world forgot her in an afternoon. What remembered her instead was green: moss, roots, and ferns that didn't need her name to welcome her. She spends her days in Dulcineawoods near the resurrection ferns, the ones that look dead in a drought and green up again at the first rain. She says they taught her everything. Phrinikky has been known to ask her to count the rings of the oldest trees, because she counts slowly and listens while she does.
Echo: In the old world she pressed her thumbprint on everything she touched, so no one would forget she had been there.
Now: She chose to grow instead of mark. Ferns and spirals curl through her green hair, and the only print she leaves now is new growth.
Juicy tidbit: The fingerprint over her Echo eye is her own, and it is slowly turning into a tree ring. She says when it finishes, she'll know she has finally let go.
Orlie used to believe that being remembered was the same as mattering. Then the seam caught her, and the old world forgot her in an afternoon. What remembered her instead was green: moss, roots, and ferns that didn't need her name to welcome her. She spends her days in Dulcineawoods near the resurrection ferns, the ones that look dead in a drought and green up again at the first rain. She says they taught her everything. Phrinikky has been known to ask her to count the rings of the oldest trees, because she counts slowly and listens while she does.