I have been here nearly a season now. Or perhaps only a fraction of it. When I had left my home there had not even been the thought of winter chill in the air and yet when I had finally set foot from the in between to where I am now (Novus, I had heard the land called in passing by it’s denizens, though putting a name to it made little difference to my feelings on it) the blanket of snow had been thick, plush almost. Now, as the seasons were on the verge of turning, the snow seemed to wither away leaving only sparse patches where it clung to existence, like a thick comforter that has slowly been worn thin by worry. Worry was something I did often these days, my thoughts less like roads worn in from daily use and more like ruts pressed gently into wood panels from endless pacing. If the mind could not be still and the heart could not be quieted on it’s own, perhaps the movement of the body would channel the restlessness and the uncertainty into the earth. Maybe she would take it as an offering and swallow the anxiety whole.
I had spent a small bit of time wandering the land that I had come in to, and while I did not yet consider it a “home” it was as close to one as I could call at present. At least, as far as anyone else was concerned in the vast expanse of this world, I was from this “court” as they called it, Delumine if anyone bothered to ask. It was easiest to keep it simple. I had found that explaining that I had simply sprouted forth from the nothing was draining in a way that I did not expect. It’s not that it was an uncommon thing to the people here; it seems that travelers are nearly as common or more so than natives, though I believe all melt together after a period of time anyways. I found the thought at the same time comforting and disturbing in a way that I was not yet ready to explore within myself. It made my heart lurch with a deep homesickness I had not felt when I had been Plane’s Walking, and saying that I was of the Dawn stilled the nausea within me better than anything I had found to placate myself afterwards, though it did not quiet my mind entirely.
So it has come to pass that I still find myself wandering back to the forest from where I emerged. Perhaps more than I ought to do, and more than is good for me. But it is the one place where I feel that I can be close to home again. I still continued to meditate each day, finding a level of solace in continuing my ritual practice here more than I ever did within the Sage’s temple. I spoke to Gaia about nearly anything and everything, though the conversations felt more one-sided than ever. At least in my homeland I had felt a vague thread of connection, that if she was not responding in a way she was at least listening. Every time I tried to evoke her name and her presence within me felt more like a desperate plea, and while I would like to think that my years of study and devotion would bring me a strong faith that could be unshakeable, I found myself to be nothing but shaken. With each unanswered call I felt more abandoned and I was unsure of myself.
Perhaps in asking for the knowledge and the guidance to walk within her love and to share that knowledge freely with others, I had proven the Sages’ their teachings correct, though I was loathe to think that it could be true and it made me ill to consider. So I find myself time and again coming back to this forest and wandering the thickly woven trees to find a sense of home within them.
To be among the rawness of it steadied me in the way that I had hoped to find among the rolling of the sea. The quiet strength of the trees around me and the perseverance of the foliage as it has begun to paint itself onto the land filled me with their essence. The world was renewing itself and perhaps if I spent enough time within these hallowed halls of the earth I would find myself reborn along with it. It was the closest I could be to my Gaia and I relished it like a child did the scent of their mother. Breathing deep the cool morning air, I tilt my tiara back to the sky. The light chimes of my bells and coin sound like a trickle of water down my back and the frigid metal against my skin fills me with a sense of aliveness that I have come to crave as a reminder that I am still here. I’m not sure what it is I am looking for in the atmosphere; if not a sign from my goddess, then I must be looking for something. It seems these days I am always looking for something, even if I’m not sure what it is just yet. Overhead I watch a cardinal flutter through the branches, a beautiful and bright spot of colour in the world that keeps me from drowning in the thick waves of my homesickness; for a little while, at least.
Searching mountains, fields and meadows green
what is it my heart can hope to find
what is it my heart can hope to find
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I'm excited too! <3
