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+---- Thread: [P] The moon speaks (/showthread.php?tid=6297)
The moon speaks - Cerridwen - 02-05-2021
There is a gentleness found in iron fists and a cruelty sleeping in soft words
The warm glow of torches and bonfires left an imprint upon the grand plume of smoke towering over the Night Markets, carrying heavenward the scent of incense and magic. Standing silently upon the shore of a grand lake, stars reflected in it’s mirror like surface, the amethyst mare wondered if that ever-growing tower of black was what ushered souls to Caligo’s doorstep; acting as Chiron to the River Styx, carrying the lost and found spirits of Denocte’s children to the safe shores of Elysium, where they were buffeted along by clouds and well wishes.
A beautiful way to go, she presumed, soaring upon wings of smoke and stars, with your loved ones and the hopes of a nation following you into the arms of all creation.
It left room for questions, Cerridwen knew, questions for how her soul would fly once the fragile shell of her body was wasted to dust. Which God would come for her, if any? Would the celestial hounds promised by her own priestesses rain down like so many fallen stars and carry her to the afterlife? Would the Cosmos reach from the earth with it’s infinite eyes and countless hands to crush her and mold her spirit into something new — a fresh mound of clay? Or would she simply sleep and never wake, at last having served the universe long enough to earn the endlessly desired eternal rest?
Life left much unanswered, but it created such colorful questions.
cerridwen
The warm glow of torches and bonfires left an imprint upon the grand plume of smoke towering over the Night Markets, carrying heavenward the scent of incense and magic. Standing silently upon the shore of a grand lake, stars reflected in it’s mirror like surface, the amethyst mare wondered if that ever-growing tower of black was what ushered souls to Caligo’s doorstep; acting as Chiron to the River Styx, carrying the lost and found spirits of Denocte’s children to the safe shores of Elysium, where they were buffeted along by clouds and well wishes.
A beautiful way to go, she presumed, soaring upon wings of smoke and stars, with your loved ones and the hopes of a nation following you into the arms of all creation.
It left room for questions, Cerridwen knew, questions for how her soul would fly once the fragile shell of her body was wasted to dust. Which God would come for her, if any? Would the celestial hounds promised by her own priestesses rain down like so many fallen stars and carry her to the afterlife? Would the Cosmos reach from the earth with it’s infinite eyes and countless hands to crush her and mold her spirit into something new — a fresh mound of clay? Or would she simply sleep and never wake, at last having served the universe long enough to earn the endlessly desired eternal rest?
Life left much unanswered, but it created such colorful questions.
cerridwen
"speech"
@Luvena hello<3
RE: The moon speaks - Luvena - 02-14-2021
She had not graced the Vitreus lake since she had stumbled along its edges with Gareth. Her memory of the time was foggy, blurred by fever and exhaustion, though she remembered waking up in his cabin after, her mind finally cleared enough to think. She had thanked, and promised that if he ever needed a favor she would be on standby. She found that this was a place she often wandered, when she needed to clear her mind.
She could peer into the lake, and watch dull turquoise eyes peer back at her. She could still remember a brief time when they had been full of light, and life, a warm glow emanating from within, shining just through them. These days they were quiet, and soft, yet still every emotion danced across their surface, plain for all to see. Even though they were often sunken with exhaustion, nothing dampened the flicker of life behind them.
She walked to join the other woman who had made the lake her home for the night, drawing up beside her she peered into the crystal clear water. The reflection that stared back at her was her own, but a reflection from a different time. One that held two crystalline horns, and long shining tresses. It was an illusion both cruel and hopeful, and she was quick to look away from it.
She turned to the woman, graceful and lithe, and stunning under Denocte’s strong moonlight. She seemed ethereal, not of this world, and everything about her screamed of mystery. “Soon this lake will freeze over, and so two will these reflections” she remarked, before introducing herself. “Luvena. And you?”
@
tried to match the mysterious vibes but you certainly pull it off better
RE: The moon speaks - Cerridwen - 02-26-2021
There is a gentleness found in iron fists and a cruelty sleeping in soft words
She lost track of time among the calls of nightbirds and the distant bell-like song of the stars; the mare found her mind wandering where it would in peaceful waves, drawing her nowhere in particular. It had been some time since she had felt so grounded in herself, the ebbing and flowing within her soul one of a contentment. Yet, the approach of another lapped gently at the edges of her awareness and Cerridwen carefully extracted herself from her musings.
Turning her horned skull toward the cloud-patterned stranger, Cerridwen offered a soft smile and a nod of welcome. Ears twisted forward to better catch the sound of her west companion’s voice and the amethyst woman took a moment to asses the quiet pride with which the mare — Luvena — held herself. It was no show of ego, that spine of steel; indeed, the wariness that marked the lines of the shorter femme’s face hid none of the experience that lived in her aquamarine gaze. What tales this stranger must have, to hold such history in her bones, and for that history to seep through patchwork skin.
“Cerridwen,” Came her simply response, silvery eyes flickering with warmth, “I would hope the ice would be kind enough to preserve us, and not merely melt us away come spring.” Punctuating her words with another grin, this one a bit wider, Cerridwen absentmindedly wrapped her leonine tail about a back leg and leaned comfortably to the side. “Does winter treat all of Novus so harshly, or is it just Denocte that weathers it’s bite?”
@Luvena <33
Turning her horned skull toward the cloud-patterned stranger, Cerridwen offered a soft smile and a nod of welcome. Ears twisted forward to better catch the sound of her west companion’s voice and the amethyst woman took a moment to asses the quiet pride with which the mare — Luvena — held herself. It was no show of ego, that spine of steel; indeed, the wariness that marked the lines of the shorter femme’s face hid none of the experience that lived in her aquamarine gaze. What tales this stranger must have, to hold such history in her bones, and for that history to seep through patchwork skin.
“Cerridwen,” Came her simply response, silvery eyes flickering with warmth, “I would hope the ice would be kind enough to preserve us, and not merely melt us away come spring.” Punctuating her words with another grin, this one a bit wider, Cerridwen absentmindedly wrapped her leonine tail about a back leg and leaned comfortably to the side. “Does winter treat all of Novus so harshly, or is it just Denocte that weathers it’s bite?”
@Luvena <33
cerridwen
"speech"
RE: The moon speaks - Luvena - 03-07-2021
The name lilted towards her in the night, soft as moonbeams and as strong as Caligo’s heartbeat. “Perhaps a bit of both” she replied, her breath fogging slightly in the chill of the night air. “Preserve those parts of everyone that show sympathy, and remorse. And melt away those parts that are best forgotten…” she let her words trail off, slipping away over the lakes surface.
She wondered what thoughts and memories this woman would rather leave behind. Surely there were some. No one equine in this cruel universe wished to keep every moment with pride. There was always some plaguing thought that one wished would be left as a remnant only for future historians. Forgotten to all but some curious scholar who poured through every book in dawn's great library.
“Dusks winters are no kindness either. I’ve heard that only Solterra is safe from the perils of winter. Though their god shows them no mercy in the summer in return. Are you from Denocte then?” she asked in curiosity.
She had never seen the woman in the court, and thought that surely she would have noticed such a tall striking woman. But perhaps like she had once chosen to do the woman lingered in the more untamed lands of Denocte. Sticking to the shores of the lake, or the snow capped peaks of the mountains, as close to the gods as could be.
@
RE: The moon speaks - Cerridwen - 04-13-2021
There is a gentleness found in iron fists and a cruelty sleeping in soft words
The underlying meaning of Luvena’s response was not lost on the mare; it seemed the patchwork woman, in her storied lifetime, had grown beyond herself and learned to feel keenly the pangs of regret. It was a wretched, vaguely surreal place to exist within oneself, and Cerridwen wasn’t sure if she had truly mastered whatever pain lurked beneath her own skin, or if she were simply avoiding the truth. However, the dawn painted femme could not help musing aloud, soft voice carrying over the frigid landscape,
“Honesty is a painful kindness that we give ourselves and those around us. If the parts that are best forgotten melt away come spring, does that mean we have lied to ourselves through exclusion?”
The question was gentle, it did not beg to be answered. Indeed, it seemed to float away to some ethereal, unknowable pocket between worlds — these ponderings were not for beings such as the pair along the banks; let the stars and scholars do with Cerridwen’s questions what they would.
At mentions of her own court’s winter season, Cerridwen let loose an uncharacteristic groan, head dipping a bit lower on her shoulders. Cold, while tolerable enough, was not counted as one of the great joys of the maiden’s life, and to hear tell of the court of Day... Well, maybe the amethyst lass had chosen the wrong kingdom to attempt to thrive. Heat, Cerridwen could manage well enough given water and shade, but cold?
“I am a newcomer to Terrastella,” Came Cerridwen’s reply when she had at last regained her composure, “Though hearing of my home’s cold season, I am considering vacationing to Solterra, if only for the heat.” A cool breeze wound it’s way over the lake’s icy surface and brushed chilly fingers through the mare’s pale mane, producing a frown from lilac lips, “In truth, though, I don’t feel like I quite belong anywhere. I’ve been wandering for years now, following the stars and just hoping somewhere will feel right...” She trailed off for a moment, silvery eyes trailing over the bare expanse of the opposite shore before fixing her gaze back toward Luvena, “What of you? Are you of Denoctian heritage, or have the stars lead you here as well?”
Would that the stars had deigned to tell her why.
@Luvena <33
cerridwen
The underlying meaning of Luvena’s response was not lost on the mare; it seemed the patchwork woman, in her storied lifetime, had grown beyond herself and learned to feel keenly the pangs of regret. It was a wretched, vaguely surreal place to exist within oneself, and Cerridwen wasn’t sure if she had truly mastered whatever pain lurked beneath her own skin, or if she were simply avoiding the truth. However, the dawn painted femme could not help musing aloud, soft voice carrying over the frigid landscape,
“Honesty is a painful kindness that we give ourselves and those around us. If the parts that are best forgotten melt away come spring, does that mean we have lied to ourselves through exclusion?”
The question was gentle, it did not beg to be answered. Indeed, it seemed to float away to some ethereal, unknowable pocket between worlds — these ponderings were not for beings such as the pair along the banks; let the stars and scholars do with Cerridwen’s questions what they would.
At mentions of her own court’s winter season, Cerridwen let loose an uncharacteristic groan, head dipping a bit lower on her shoulders. Cold, while tolerable enough, was not counted as one of the great joys of the maiden’s life, and to hear tell of the court of Day... Well, maybe the amethyst lass had chosen the wrong kingdom to attempt to thrive. Heat, Cerridwen could manage well enough given water and shade, but cold?
“I am a newcomer to Terrastella,” Came Cerridwen’s reply when she had at last regained her composure, “Though hearing of my home’s cold season, I am considering vacationing to Solterra, if only for the heat.” A cool breeze wound it’s way over the lake’s icy surface and brushed chilly fingers through the mare’s pale mane, producing a frown from lilac lips, “In truth, though, I don’t feel like I quite belong anywhere. I’ve been wandering for years now, following the stars and just hoping somewhere will feel right...” She trailed off for a moment, silvery eyes trailing over the bare expanse of the opposite shore before fixing her gaze back toward Luvena, “What of you? Are you of Denoctian heritage, or have the stars lead you here as well?”
Would that the stars had deigned to tell her why.
@Luvena <33
cerridwen
"speech"
RE: The moon speaks - Luvena - 05-24-2021
She listened with fond ears. Her heart tugged towards the mare's words, and away from them all at once. In another time, Cerridwen's words would have been the ones she herself was speaking. Like clockwork the words seemed to drift away, left with no answer. In truth it seemed no one had the answer to such questions. Their meanings left to drift on the wind, until eternity eroded their edges, and left them as dust to linger with the stars.
She laughed at the mare's groan, a gentle sound that wandered across the lake. “Believe me I’m no fan either” Luvena replied. “Though I’m not sure I’d rather swelter under the sun either” she thought back to her time in the Red Waste, and how the sun there had brought nothing but fever and illness. There was a screaming lack of irony to wasting away in the waste, one she knew all too well.
She nodded along with the woman’s words. They echoed all to true for her as well. And then there was that laugh from her own mouth again. “No” she replied gingerly. “My heritage has long since been forgotten by anyone who matters” She wondered if the other kingdoms even remembered Herstial now. Leuadia, and Demurine, and Siropal… all the sister kingdoms of Idolara, with Herstial at its center. Yet it was the self-made outcast of the land. Most of the survivors had probably cast the thought behind them, melded into the shadows of their new homes… “I’ve wandered many a years beneath the stars, looking to them. Settling for a time and then moving on again. But I’ve at least settled in Denocte for now. The moon is…” she wasn’t sure what she meant to say. Peaceful wasn’t quite it… comforting perhaps? “Ever-changing” she finally settled.
“Truthfully I’m not sure anywhere will ever feel right…” she lingered on those words for a moment. Not sure if they were advice for Cerridwen oir for herself. “I think it’s more those around you who would impart such a feeling”
@