THE BLACK DOE
the infinite intimacy of her rage
Her restless heart had once more cast her to the roads, back to the fundamental wanderings of a lost soul. Her curiosity had taken her here; to Delumine, Dawn Court, in the same way a moth is drawn effortlessly, dangerously, to a flame. There was not a better time to be there, the Black Doe would come to find, for the Autumnal Soltice was alive and tantalizing, tempting and pleasing. It was unlike anything she'd seen before, except for perhaps the Night Markets back... 'Home'. She still doesn't know the meaning of that word. She doesn't know if she ever will.
Slipping in like a shadow to the forest, making to the festivities was hardly a task. There's many things - too many things - to focus on, overwhelming and all-encompassing. Lighting the trees and enlivening the expanse of Viride with life, pulsing and awing. It's easy to find but difficult to regain her bearings, and before long she is reeling away from the activity, further and further away. Then the sounds are morphing into voices; soothing, calling, pulling voices that take her from the noise until it is only a murmur, din in the background. Instead, a slightly more defined voice replaces it and begins to whisper and kiss at her soft ears. Illuminated by the lantern's orange-glow, she turns to the side, then to another direction, the sinking feeling of longing aching so much in her chest she can hardly handle it. She can't even remember what that voice said to her, but oh how she wants to know; they have settled a heavy stone in the pit of her gut, a pining in her ribcage that seems exemplified by the fact that this always had been a constant, dull ache - but now, somehow, she wants for so much more.
Do you hear them?
Her entire body tenses as a shadow emerges from the undergrowth. It was the first time she'd ever seen someone captivate the same energy as she; even as the glow of a sun casts toward her, his brilliant orange eyes having the very same effect. Dark gray eyes meet his own with similar intensity, though her surprise is still worn on the way she holds herself. No matter how much his own glowing warmth felt welcoming (not so unlike the lanterns lit around them), it takes more than usual time for her to relax to the idea that this stranger had just peeled from the undergrowth, as though he had been here this entire time; as though he was simply waiting for a reason to make his presence known.
She knows what he speaks of. A slow nod offers him her answer; she can hear them, as raw and real as a deep wound cuts into her skin. It felt like they were exposing her, bit by bit, moment by moment, unfurling the thin of her skin until she was bare.
But what could they possibly find? Even she doesn't know what lies beyond... But she wants to. She wants to know where everything she encompasses came from. Wants to know where her dark fur comes from, wants to know what all this longing and searching is for. She wants, needs, desires, longs to know. Could these voices give her this answer? Is she a fool to hope?
Doe looks around, through the trees, into the undergrowth as though searching for it. Looking for some type of direction, some way. The stranger's voice fills in the background again, and what comes is something that resonates with her so much more than she likes.
They're only the voices of the lost. Some say they only sing to those who are also lost.
Tears threaten to sting her eyes. She knows she is lost - that's never been a question in her life. But these voices... Could they somehow be connected to her? Could they actually, truly understand? Gods, if there was any way that she has found understanding in such an unlikely place-
I suppose you've come for the festival path? Whether or not you believe the stories, you can't walk these woods without feeling the presence of something ancient and beautiful dwelling in the roots. Of course, not everything beneath this canopy is beautiful.
Perhaps you will learn what else haunts this forest tonight.
"Show me." The words come out in a terribly desperate way. Soft, yearning, wanting. She quite nearly begs, and the words fall at their hooves. Pleading and soft, feather-light and paper-thin. "Show me. Please."
She doesn't care if he's 'crazy'. She doesn't care if this is all a farce. She doesn't care if all she'll find are those stupid, beautiful violets - she just knows she needs to find something here, even if it's nothing. She has been captivated completely and totally into this trail without even taking a single step into it yet. She has become a victim to the callings and they needed only to speak soft nothings to her for her to fall.
But she wants to follow those lost voices. She wants to know what answers they can give her. She wants to know if there is a purpose in her life.
If there is a meaning for all this hunger.
She takes a step after the golden, yellow light. And another. And another.
Until the forest wraps around her and she is drawn further away from the light and into the totality of the wild.
࿑
Speech.
Slipping in like a shadow to the forest, making to the festivities was hardly a task. There's many things - too many things - to focus on, overwhelming and all-encompassing. Lighting the trees and enlivening the expanse of Viride with life, pulsing and awing. It's easy to find but difficult to regain her bearings, and before long she is reeling away from the activity, further and further away. Then the sounds are morphing into voices; soothing, calling, pulling voices that take her from the noise until it is only a murmur, din in the background. Instead, a slightly more defined voice replaces it and begins to whisper and kiss at her soft ears. Illuminated by the lantern's orange-glow, she turns to the side, then to another direction, the sinking feeling of longing aching so much in her chest she can hardly handle it. She can't even remember what that voice said to her, but oh how she wants to know; they have settled a heavy stone in the pit of her gut, a pining in her ribcage that seems exemplified by the fact that this always had been a constant, dull ache - but now, somehow, she wants for so much more.
Do you hear them?
Her entire body tenses as a shadow emerges from the undergrowth. It was the first time she'd ever seen someone captivate the same energy as she; even as the glow of a sun casts toward her, his brilliant orange eyes having the very same effect. Dark gray eyes meet his own with similar intensity, though her surprise is still worn on the way she holds herself. No matter how much his own glowing warmth felt welcoming (not so unlike the lanterns lit around them), it takes more than usual time for her to relax to the idea that this stranger had just peeled from the undergrowth, as though he had been here this entire time; as though he was simply waiting for a reason to make his presence known.
She knows what he speaks of. A slow nod offers him her answer; she can hear them, as raw and real as a deep wound cuts into her skin. It felt like they were exposing her, bit by bit, moment by moment, unfurling the thin of her skin until she was bare.
But what could they possibly find? Even she doesn't know what lies beyond... But she wants to. She wants to know where everything she encompasses came from. Wants to know where her dark fur comes from, wants to know what all this longing and searching is for. She wants, needs, desires, longs to know. Could these voices give her this answer? Is she a fool to hope?
Doe looks around, through the trees, into the undergrowth as though searching for it. Looking for some type of direction, some way. The stranger's voice fills in the background again, and what comes is something that resonates with her so much more than she likes.
They're only the voices of the lost. Some say they only sing to those who are also lost.
Tears threaten to sting her eyes. She knows she is lost - that's never been a question in her life. But these voices... Could they somehow be connected to her? Could they actually, truly understand? Gods, if there was any way that she has found understanding in such an unlikely place-
I suppose you've come for the festival path? Whether or not you believe the stories, you can't walk these woods without feeling the presence of something ancient and beautiful dwelling in the roots. Of course, not everything beneath this canopy is beautiful.
Perhaps you will learn what else haunts this forest tonight.
"Show me." The words come out in a terribly desperate way. Soft, yearning, wanting. She quite nearly begs, and the words fall at their hooves. Pleading and soft, feather-light and paper-thin. "Show me. Please."
She doesn't care if he's 'crazy'. She doesn't care if this is all a farce. She doesn't care if all she'll find are those stupid, beautiful violets - she just knows she needs to find something here, even if it's nothing. She has been captivated completely and totally into this trail without even taking a single step into it yet. She has become a victim to the callings and they needed only to speak soft nothings to her for her to fall.
But she wants to follow those lost voices. She wants to know what answers they can give her. She wants to know if there is a purpose in her life.
If there is a meaning for all this hunger.
She takes a step after the golden, yellow light. And another. And another.
Until the forest wraps around her and she is drawn further away from the light and into the totality of the wild.
Speech.
