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+---- Thread: >> cliffs of insanity, devotion << (/showthread.php?tid=312)
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RE: >> cliffs of insanity, devotion << - Inkheart - 07-28-2017
Inkheart
JUST LIKE FIRE, BURNING OUT THE WAY
IF I CAN LIGHT THE WORLD UP FOR
JUST ONE DAY WATCH THIS MADNESS
COLORFUL CHARADE NO ONE CAN
BE JUST LIKE ME ANYWAY
IF I CAN LIGHT THE WORLD UP FOR
JUST ONE DAY WATCH THIS MADNESS
COLORFUL CHARADE NO ONE CAN
BE JUST LIKE ME ANYWAY
Florentine looks out at the sea, then up toward the sky. Inkheart simply watches the other fae's gaze, not interpreting her movements as anything in particular, instead listening just to the words that spill from those whiskery lips. Her question about the sightings of the Gods causes a knot to form in the dark femme's gut. She doesn't say anything... yet. Flora's desire to meet them mirrors her own, and it pains her to acknowledge in a soft murmur that no one has seen the Gods. "No one has seen them, at least no one that I've met. Since they made peace and agreed to go their own ways, they have deigned not to visit Novus and appear to us mortals."
The admission of disbelief (or at least, partial disbelief) does not anger the Friesian, but offers her hope. The first step to working toward a solution is realizing you have a problem. Or, so to speak. In the back of her mind a voice squeaks that this Florentine, this flower child, is a nonbeliever and should be stricken down for her unorthodox beliefs. But the more rational part of her mind says that believing in the existence of gods is a good starting point, and the pale creature has at least opened her mind to exploring the possibility that these gods DO wield the power Inkheart claims.
The knot in her stomach doesn't loosen, doesn't lessen. Midnight lips press together. She has often wanted in anguish to meet the gods, of course Solis especially. But despite the number of times she has worshipped, begged, pleaded... the deeds she has done in the name of Solis.. Not once has a single deity appeared before her. A bitter taste fills her mouth, and she tries to ignore it.
The sound of Florentine's voice sounds again, shaking her from the dark whisperings of a doubting mind. "A sage that is rude and dull - and MUSTY?! Truly let's hope they aren't all like that." She offers a sympathetic and understanding smile. "Unfortunately I don't know many myself. None that would be better than the one you've already met, certainly." Unless it is Inkheart herself who could offer the insight. But for the moment her mind is tired, her heart is tired, and she wants to muse over the issues that Florentine was brought to her attention. "Search for answers, and let's hope that we can meet again. For deep conversation such as this, or perhaps something more lighthearted next time." A velvety chuckle carries on the wind. She tilts her crown forward, bowing respectfully. She raises her gaze to meet the amethyst gaze again. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Florentine." And with that, she turned north, toward home, and lifted her wings to take off in search of a place to rest her mind.
RE: >> cliffs of insanity, devotion << - Florentine - 08-02-2017
f l o r e n t i n e
Pessimism sits, antsy upon her tongue. Florentine feels its festering nature and swallows it into nothingness. “Why would the gods choose not to live among the mortals?” She asks when at last her pessimism is tempered.
Did these gods not care for their worshippers? Or the mortals that reside within the lands their magic, supposedly, forged?
Oh she was a girl too amiable, too sociable for her own good and her eyes lift to the Terrastellan skies and she wonders where the gods reside.
For all her questions, for all her doubting, Florentine does not mean to place the worms of doubt that twist within Inkheart’s mind. She sees the press of the midnight girl’s lips, contrasted by the glow of sunlight at her breast. She was a contrary creature, Solis’ servant, a wielder of light, contained in a body as black as Calligo’s shadows.
“Mmmhmm,” Florentine sings, her smile sly upon her lips. Yet a frown is swift to draw its way across her features. Where there truly no other sages she could ask? She feared it was a burnt bridge with the dawn boy, Charlemagne… He had been so rude after all – not that she had carried herself with any semblance of decorum either… Flora had been quite rude but it still remained a mystery just how their amiable conversation had fallen into such chaos and dislike.
The North calls to her and she looks to the mountains that rise like jagged spires up to heaven. The tallest of all stands proud, its peak misted in cloud. She looks long, so long that the silence grows awkwardly between her and Inkheart. But there is no silence in her head, for the whispers of intrigue fill her mind’s every corner. The girl, sunset gold and dusk purple, is not sure whether it is the call of Verenor Peak and its hidden temple, or her own thoughts that prompt her to go.
Either way, those voices grow and grow and claw at her skin until she answers their cry with only a small, “yes.” It was not a yes she intended for now, though suddenly Inkheart is leaving and directing her to go and seek answers. Behind her, Florentine is sure she hears the mountain laugh. “Goodbye, Inkheart. A pleasure.” She says with a gracious smile, wings flaring into a playful curtsey. But that warm smile is only fleeting, for when she turns back to the mountain, her eyes, bright and purple, darken for the journey to come.
In silence, in a breath of feathers, her wings flare as she heads for Verenor Peak.
@Inkheart - all wrapped up ^.^
this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart
Did these gods not care for their worshippers? Or the mortals that reside within the lands their magic, supposedly, forged?
Oh she was a girl too amiable, too sociable for her own good and her eyes lift to the Terrastellan skies and she wonders where the gods reside.
For all her questions, for all her doubting, Florentine does not mean to place the worms of doubt that twist within Inkheart’s mind. She sees the press of the midnight girl’s lips, contrasted by the glow of sunlight at her breast. She was a contrary creature, Solis’ servant, a wielder of light, contained in a body as black as Calligo’s shadows.
“Mmmhmm,” Florentine sings, her smile sly upon her lips. Yet a frown is swift to draw its way across her features. Where there truly no other sages she could ask? She feared it was a burnt bridge with the dawn boy, Charlemagne… He had been so rude after all – not that she had carried herself with any semblance of decorum either… Flora had been quite rude but it still remained a mystery just how their amiable conversation had fallen into such chaos and dislike.
The North calls to her and she looks to the mountains that rise like jagged spires up to heaven. The tallest of all stands proud, its peak misted in cloud. She looks long, so long that the silence grows awkwardly between her and Inkheart. But there is no silence in her head, for the whispers of intrigue fill her mind’s every corner. The girl, sunset gold and dusk purple, is not sure whether it is the call of Verenor Peak and its hidden temple, or her own thoughts that prompt her to go.
Either way, those voices grow and grow and claw at her skin until she answers their cry with only a small, “yes.” It was not a yes she intended for now, though suddenly Inkheart is leaving and directing her to go and seek answers. Behind her, Florentine is sure she hears the mountain laugh. “Goodbye, Inkheart. A pleasure.” She says with a gracious smile, wings flaring into a playful curtsey. But that warm smile is only fleeting, for when she turns back to the mountain, her eyes, bright and purple, darken for the journey to come.
In silence, in a breath of feathers, her wings flare as she heads for Verenor Peak.
@Inkheart - all wrapped up ^.^
RE: >> cliffs of insanity, devotion << - inkbone - 08-13-2017
Staff note: LAUREN and OBSIDIAN redeemed signos for completing the thread, as well as for threading together for the first time.