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
