Populus Alba

Shhhhh…

Quincy was not a brave Nymdrya. His whole life-–short though it may currently be-–he’d been motivated primarily by fear and anxiety. He was jumpy, easily upset, constantly nervous; his voice trembled when he spoke, and he often kept his arms clutched close to his chest. Everything seemed so big and so threatening compared to him. He was so, so small and the world was so vast. 

But here, in this moment, he felt oddly calm–perhaps the calmest he’d ever felt. He was standing in the midst of a forest, surrounded by trees with trunks of white bark marred with black diamonds. Their trunks were thin, but they were tall and their canopies broad, with leaves that were deep green on top and pale, almost silvery white on the bottom. A light breeze blew through the forest, catching the verdant leaves and gently shaking the thin trunks. As the leaves rustled against each other, the motion made the pale underside of the leaves flutter, seeming to shimmer in the dappled sunlight, and it almost sounded like the trees were whispering to him. 

Shhhhhhh….

There was a strange, warm resonance deep within him. These trees--poplars--looked so fragile, their trunks marred by countless scars, and yet it felt like they were reassuring him. Cautiously, he toddled forward, reaching out and placing a tiny digit on a pale trunk. Instantly, a pulse of energy flowed through him as the tree’s natural energy connected with his own, and suddenly he saw that he was not surrounded by innumerable individual trees, but by one massive plant system, its roots sprawling through the ground below him. What seemed like thin, fragile trees were actually mere offshoots of something vast and old, something that could withstand nearly anything that got thrown at it.

He wanted to be like that. He’d already felt a kinship with these poplars before, with their perceived fragility, and the way their leaves shook as if from nerves. But now the poplar was also something to aspire to, something he wanted to be in the future. 

Shhhhhhhhhhh…. 

Leaves still rustling and shimmering all around him, that pulsing energy between him and the tree strengthened, filling him with the feeling of deep kinship. He may be small and afraid, but that was okay. If allowed to grow, he could become more. He didn’t have to let his anxiety control him. 

Shhh…

A single leaf, dark green and silver, its edges tinged with a pale yellow, drifted down from the canopy and landed on his outstretched hand. And from the leaf rose a small orb of light, shimmering between green and silver. The orb drifted towards him, coming to a stop just in front of him. It floated there, waiting for him to accept it. 

And accept it he did; cradling it in his hands, he brought the orb of light to his chest. It flared brightly, then disappeared into him, becoming part of him. But then, in a way, it had always been part of him–he just hadn’t known it yet. 

For the first time in his life, as he accepted his Core, Quincy was not afraid.