flowers grow back
even after they have been stepped on
It was spring.
Another season had come and gone. As Ipomoea lifts his head he can see new leaves budding in the treetops, decorating their skeletal branches with hints of green. He can still remember when the leaves had first begun to fall, and he had stood beneath them like they were his christening.
He has seen the leaves both slough away and return. And still, and still, the trees had not spoken to him.
And new blood still marked the trees in the morning.
Ipomoea considers the tree before him, with its bark marked with scars and eyes that left dark streaks against its pale trunk. All around him the trees seem to stare at him, and Ipomoea can begin to think of the other things they may have seen wandering through their groves. Even when he doesn’t want to imagine it, still he begs them to show him when he reaches out and skims his nose against the bark.
Of course, it doesn’t.
Once the trees had come alive at his touch, had never hesitated to tell him of all the things they had seen since last he asked. A wolf chasing a rabbit; a pair of laughing equines twined around one another; an old man sitting for hours between their upraised roots. Once they would have reached out eagerly for him, and whisper welcome home with their leaves. Ipomoea misses that - and as the silence stretches on he becomes more aware of how long it had been since they last embraced him like one of their own.
He moves on, but the next tree is no different. Or the next, or the next. All of them stare at him, and tremble at his touch. And he wants to believe he’s imagining it when the branches overhead seem to creak betrayer at his back.
If there wasn’t work to be done, a poacher to be found, a killer to stop, a forest of silent trees and a court of silent people to protect, he might have stayed until he had pressed his skin to the bark of every single tree in Viride and begged them for forgiveness (for a crime he does not remember committing). But after a half a dozen trees refuse to answer, the flower king admits defeat, and turns to leave the copse.
Only then does a shiver run down his spine, and Ipomoea thinks he may not be alone with the trees after all.
open to anyone.
"Speaking."
02-02-2020, 11:10 AM
Played by
Dyzzie [PM] Posts: 116 — Threads: 20 Signos: 40
"Just give me the world and I will give it back to you
Just tell me it hurts and I will fix it for you"
There was an odd heaviness to the forest today, and a slight sturring in the very ley lines of magic that Cally was saturating herself into. She was quiet as she studied it, trying to sense the upset, as if it would direct her to where she needed to go. The natural magic of the earth reached out to her, and she briefly felt it flare against her skin, pawing at her as the swelling aura cloaked her in a much heavier hue than typical. Her eyes closed as she breathed in, holding her breath for five seconds before releasing it again - letting herself fall more fully into the natural flow of energy that coursed beneath her split hooves.
Pain. Sorrow. Death. So much pain. It was almost overwhelming, even as the currents of energy rose up to sooth her with gentle brushes, helping to teach her to keep breathing so the sense of the magic wouldn't overwhelm, making her a touch stronger, more used to the connection and system of communication being established a little stronger each day. Her magic was growing in leaps and bounds - even considered medicore at best. Weak compared to what she was used to, but the current was eager to train her, and she eagerly gave herself over to the natural world, dedicated to resume her role as a champion, a druid of the earth.
But she was not expecting the weeping, nor the anger in the distance . . . no, not anger, betrayal. It didn't fit the setting of spring the forest had taken. Her eyes snapped forward, sensing this had more to do with the reason for patrols, and the need to find the poacher of these woods, and in an instance she wondered if this feeling was directed towards the poacher walking through these very woods again. Her gaze narrowed before she turned in that direction and she began to move.
Around her the currents swelled, urging her forward and keeping her company as she walked. The trees would occasionally give a soft, spattering of greeting, a subtle hello that wasn't as strong as she wished it would be. She missed when the words would come easily and constantly, but even now the faint echoes that came and went was more than enough. The slight hints of the gossip the trees had to share, the compliments the flowers would pay if she seemed a little too downtrodden. She had missed it all. She'd missed being part of the world, part of the energies of the earth.
It pains her now, being reconnected that it's hurting, and despite her best efforts to help, they were no closer to the poacher yet. Cally herself was about to double the patrols she went on - start heading off alone where she could follow the earth's signs with out having to explain why she was following a voice no one else could hear. Her magic was of an odd sort that not too many could understand if they weren't part of the earth as she was now, again. As she moved further, the trees seem to grow more silent, welcoming her with silent touches rather than words, and the quiet seems odd and forced. She moves forward, curious of where the change came from, until she starts to hear the creaks in the branches, the trembling of trees and her concern grows.
What has caused the forest this level of upset . . . She moves forward then before spotting a figure surrounded by trees that were giving the cold shoulder, and instantly her disapproval flared along the current lines. Such childish behavior from ancient beings . . . especially for one organizing patrols to aid in the capture of a creature destroying citizens of this forest. Was this truly the kind of behavior the forest condoned? Was this the expectation of this land, of this earth? She moved with purpose, each step taking her towards Po even as her attention stays on the forest. There's a brief moment as some of the silent ones recognize the new figure, and she stares them down quietly, her magic guided by the very nature of the earth that gave them life.
"I forget, sometimes, how childish trees can be, when they will hinder even when you try to protect." Her words call out in an accusation against the tall timber around them, just as it is to announce her present. Coating her body in a sparkling sheen of semi-transparent energy, the ley lines seem to laugh at her gentle chiding to the foliage, even as she turns her attention to Po, dipping her head in the respect greeting his station required, "Why is the forest so . . . upset with you?" She asked after a moment, shifting to lean against one tree, as if to offer a gentle reassurance even after her public reprimand for their behavior, even knowing the elder giants could hold grudges that span their life time, her attention instead focuses on the leader of Delumine, her small warm, and around her, the magic soothing what little her limited abilities can reach.
flowers grow back
even after they have been stepped on
Once, before the trees had settled down to sleep the long winter away, they would have warned him that someone was coming. Once they would have cloaked him in their leaves and crowned him with their branches, and the forest and the meadows would have welcomed him as another part of the wild earth. He wonders if they had always known where he came from; could they smell the desert on him, beneath the flowers? Would they care if they did? He had never known an aspen to be jealous, but now as he presses his skin to their bark and feels nothing but emptiness, he thinks that even the trees can still surprise him.
Some days he still isn’t sure if it is he who has changed, or the forest; it’s far too easy to blame it all on winter and to wait for spring to wake them all back up for him.
As it is, only the soft murmur of quick steps over soft soil alerted him to the others presence. He turns, seeing Callynite hovering at the edge of his vision, and lets out the breath he had not realized he was holding. It was easy to feel tense when the trees were quiet and the blood was bright against their white bark; Ipomoea has to remind himself to relax, loosening his shoulders as he greets the antlered girl with a nod. But he can’t stop from scanning the forest surrounding them quickly, wondering what or who else might be out there that the trees were not disclosing.
“The trees are not upset with me.” When had his voice started to sound so distant, so hollow? He almost adds I hope to the end of it. It feels wrong as soon as the words leave his lips - he feels like he should smile, to add something kinder as if to mitigate the previous sting - but he doesn’t. He can’t. The girl’s own smile is warm and easy on her lips, as bright as sunlight streaming between summer leaves. He envies that, the way she can smile even while hunting death.
Ipomoea turns, and his sigh is lost in the sound of his hoof beats against the fallen leaves.
“And it is not childish to be afraid of death. I do not blame them for that.” Even if sometimes he wondered which death they feared, and by whose hand - and how much they might blame him for his role in it. He had invited rot into the forest, selfishly thought he was enough to heal whatever disease she brought. But replacing dead leaves with new ones was not the same as saving them, he had seen that demonstrated already in a golden sapling.
He stops, tilting his head back. Overhead he can see the beginnings of new leaves budding along each of the slender branches, and beyond that, the sky. For a moment he is quiet, staring quietly into the canopy. ”How go your patrols? Is the forest as quiet as it seems?” he asks her, never taking his eyes from the hint of green peeking down at him. But there’s another question hiding in the first, one that’s begging to know what the trees are telling her, and if it’s all the things they are not telling him.
"Just give me the world and I will give it back to you
Just tell me it hurts and I will fix it for you"
Cally knew the hardship of a sudden silent world to her senses, dampened and dead - as if no connection was visible. She knew of losing that protection, that love and need to be loved. She knew what it was like for the world to go silent with no warning and how it could make your head spin in circles while you search for solid ground when the horizons all suddenly seemed to frozen and unfamiliar. In a way, a part of her knew what it might be like for Po to have the forest go silent beneath his hoof and touch - but not on the same level of silence. Her silence had been cast from magic locked away and then twisted to fit Novus. His was from nature turning away from him.
It was obvious from the distance she approached from that the forest around him felt stiffer than she'd expected, the trees barely murmuring to her in their attempts to keep silent to him. It felt wrong to her, who experienced that heart wrenching silence for them to do it to another. As her king turns towards her, she frowns at the breath he loosens, how his posture seems to have to be forced to relax - even as he greets her with a nod. She returns it however, as her gaze travels over the nearby foliage, questioning just how silent they've grown to Po. The feel wrong.
His words sound off, not the same tone of when he had first spoken to her so long ago, when he'd shared the magic of the forest to her, had been the first positive person to see her as still a part of the earthen world they treaded upon. As if he'd seen something deeper in her that whispered with the same melodic sequences of the earth. He'd been right of course, but his words had been a shelter to protect herself from the growing bitterness during that time. Now the energy flow itself was her shelter.
Her head tilts when he dismisses the idea of the trees being upset, and she wonders if he believes his words himself, or if he's trying to convince them both. He turns again, and when he speaks again, it's in defense of the forest. Not childish to be afraid of death perhaps . . . but it was childish to spat at the hand offering aid, or in this case hoof. She couldn't blame them for being afraid, certainly . . . but Delumine didn't just have one nature inclined equine walking it's surface - they had the king who had more reasons than anyone to defend and protect this world, his home.
"Just because they fear death, doesn't mean it's acceptable to turn their back towards someone who wishes to aid, and assist in any way they can." She murmurs quietly, her tones dipping low and heavy between the two souls. Her gaze sweeps over the trees, feeling their distress over the troubles the forest held. Cally was still learning about what all was wrong in Viride, but she was finding there was a lot that seemed ill at ease. Being forced to learn and take in all the different situations and pains the forest held was a full time job of its own, one where she took her cue from the forest and was perhaps learning more from what others were telling her than going to the source.
She considers for a moment asking Po what all is paining the forest so - it runs deeper than just a Poacher after all: what this disease the forest quakes for exactly was, but doesn't know how to arrange the question with out it sounding accusatory in the front of the silent forest around them.
He finally breaks the silence Callynite hadn't noticed growing, asking of her patrols - and of the quiet forest. She is silent for a moment, before looking towards him, "They whisper. It comes and goes, I'm afraid, the connection to the frequency they speak on: though I hear it more constantly with each passing day of late. But they whisper their concerns, their worries. Of disease and of the pain of their citizens they shelter." Her voice drifts off, as she reaches out with her magic to touch the energy flow moving around her, digging deeper for more information to give him.
The flow accepts her just as easily as it always has, the tendrils of power pawing at her pelt with the need of attention, pulling her into the energy lines of the forest, leading her through the trees. The moment comes to ask, "What is the disease the trees are fighting?" Her gaze turns towards him, more vacant than before she'd joined her magic with the earth's, both here with him and with the energy flows running through Viride, "I've enough understanding - from the forest and second hand information to know it's some sort of disease, or rot. But what is it, what does it do?" Her eyes close briefly as the energy flow directs her elsewhere, and she lets the power flare, gently nudging it to stay on a track to give her more information to relay.
It's easy, surrounded by energy to not notice when you're using too much of your own during the first level of magic, however, despite her previous experiences. She was a novice at best, growing strong by the day - but not infallible: so she thinks little of letting herself spread thin, and push the magic out further, "The energy is chaotic, the earth worries for the forest, for those who make their home with in the trees and beneath their limbs. A poacher hunts her children with no respect for the lives stolen," As she speaks, her own voice seems to shift, as if a second voice raises up to harmonize with her own, her vacancy increases as her awareness leaves where they stand and is settling more firmly in the lines during her report. "While another hunts her children, another strikes at her timber guardians. The forest has grown . . . ." She pauses, and when she finds the right word, the second voice becomes more pronounced, a single word being spoken through the druid who had taken up the mantle of protecting what the earth deemed dear to it, using the earth's energies to aide, rebuild and heal, "tainted."
The energy is suddenly swirling around Cally, tugging at her and she can feel her limbs shaking from far away - and she knows she's reached her limit, as she releases her hold on the lines - only to become aware of how out of form she had forced them to become. Her face visible winces as the flow of energy is forced back into their original place, arching through her own body like a grounding control. Three times the energy arches through her, the punishment of taking things too far, and taking some of her own energy to aide in their re-alignment. Her knees buckle, and she almost hits the ground before she catches herself and plants her hooves more strongly - taking the punishment for pushing her magic to far, her teeth gritted even as the energy that had attached itself on the visible plane had risen up to stroke her fur in reassurance as she focuses on her breathing through the sudden exhaustion. The energy around her feeds her more, further cycling the amount of earth energy and self energy with in her body as the exhaustion lifts from near faint to merely taxing.
She straightens her hooves, even as the grasses at her ankles seemed to sway against her limbs in tender hugs, some of the trees turning towards her in concern, "I forget this power is not at the strength it once was," She apologizes - to both the nature around her, and to the king who she'd shown the weakness towards. Knowing her limit was one thing - and one Cally tended to keep aware of . . . but with the trouble in Viride at the moment . . . she was finding more and more reasons to keep pushing that limit, and putting herself beyond that limit to just help a little more, to be a little more useful. And if the forest had silenced itself to Po . . . it was all the more reason for Cally to push herself still. If she was the only connection, the only one the forest was willing to whisper to right now . . . She needed to be able to help to the fullest, her own limits be damned.
"Speech" Thoughts
@Ipomoea ;; I hate that I made her lacking in self-preservation. I had to tone down the pushing of the energies, first plot out of this post had her full in collapse, but she would hate to show that much weakness in front of someone too - so she had to catch herself instead. Freakin' deer-horse and her need to push herself beyond her limits in a sense of duty at her own expense x.x
flowers grow back
even after they have been stepped on
A part of him - the selfish, bitter part of him that he liked to blame on his desert blood, the part of him that was still new and hungry - wondered at how the forest could come awake beneath her hooves, and not his. She who was not native to this wood or this world, she who’s magic was still just beginning to sprout when his was - had been - approaching its peak. And his heart is growing more and more discontent the longer he stands in the grove, wishing for all the world that he could sort out his troubles on his own.
Because she doesn’t understand why the trees had gone silent - not only for him, but for almost all of Novus for months and months. Or that the rot was not a parasite or a disease, but a unicorn weaving between their trunks and leaving dust in her footsteps, a unicorn he had invited into the Court (and whom he could never make himself ask to leave, even if he knew it was best for the trees.) Callynite did not know that there was no one on the Regime who was blameless, least of all himself.
The trees had gone to sleep for the winter. And Ipomoea had been afraid to wake them back up.
It still leaves a bitter taste on his tongue.
It had not been all that long ago that he had stood beside a lake made of glass and told himself to be brave, be brave. Or when he had walked the length of a strange island looking for gods, and hunted monsters (and men) in the sand dunes of Solterra. And for a while, he had been brave. Brave enough to return home and dare to tell his sovereign that he would be the new king, that he would be the one to awaken the Court. But something had changed, if not the moment he first crossed the border back into Delumine, then surely when he looked Somnus in the eye and failed to say all the things he had wanted to. That was the first time Ipomoea had caved since trying to be brave, and his first failure; but it had not been the last.
And now as Callynite becomes a part of the forest and he listens to her gradually changing voice, he finds himself unable to meet her vacant gaze and looks up towards the canopy instead. He can’t help but compare it to the way the forest would speak to him - her voice is too flat, like it’s not her own; her expression is too blank, like she is only a conduit for which energy to flow, and not a part of any conversation going on.
Her magic is not the same as his. And the selfish part of him wants to smile at knowing so.
He doesn’t correct her as she speaks; Ipomoea only listens quietly, and waits. And when she finally pulls away from her magic and trembles like a dying leaf caught in a tempest, Ipomoea comes forward and offers her his shoulder for strength.
“Death,” he says at last. “All they are trying to fight is death, like all of us are.” First it had been the fires; then a monster; now there was more death, and rot, and fear, and the citizens of the court were not the only ones who were tired of it.
He has to fight back the urge to leave then and there, to return to stalking the forest like the only way to defeat death was to become it himself. The shadows between the trees are calling his name, and it’s with no small effort that he shifts his gaze back to Callynite.
”But for now, the best way we can protect anything is to find whoever is still killing between the trees. The animals are as important to Viride as the trees, and each death only weakens the magic and the forest forest.” This, he is sure, she can understand; surely she’s felt it in the energy already. His eyes and his voice are steady now when he holds her gaze, and says, ”And I intend to walk every inch of this forest until I am sure there is no one left to try to destroy it.”
He can feel the branches shuddering overhead, and the roots twisting beneath the ground. And a part of his heart is still breaking for it, even while the other part is racing at the prospect of a hunt, the two halves at odds with one another. ”Will you do the same?”
"Just give me the world and I will give it back to you
Just tell me it hurts and I will fix it for you"
There was a part towards the young doe-turned-hybrid who was still learning the story and history of the land - finding out why certain areas were the way there were. It was true that there was much that Cally wouldn't know, much she was not yet in tune to - and more still that she would have to learn from the maw of those who had lived in these lands long before she stepped through the portal that fateful day. But there was also a dedication to the earth, a desire to protect it that sung in her heart, spurred forth by her new twist to familiar magic. As long as the Earth whispered to her, guided her hoof towards the work She saw needing to be undone, Cally would serve Mother Nature, just as she would proudly stand beside Po for any of his decisions of Delumine. Cally was a creature who took duty seriously, and she prayed there would never be a day she'd have to choose between the Nature she'd chosen to once more serve to protect and defend and the very nation and realm that took her in and made her part of the family when she had first stepped into Delumine, confused at the land she had woken up in.
Still, she feels there is oddness in the interaction that had once been smoother between her and her King, an inevitable shift in attitudes that she couldn't name and quickly tried to put off on being just the upset of the recent situation. She couldn't begin to attempt to read into the mind of the buck stallion before her, and even for their brief interactions previously, she couldn't say she knew Po either. Well enough to recognize her sovereign even from a distance, but not enough to be able to explain him to another beyond his appearance and station. She knew little about him, little about the distress of the Forest and where it came from, little about anything. A part of her troubled at her lack of knowledge in so much of it as well, a more substantial piece of her didn't want to upset others in such an uncertain time by demanding answers for why the Forest seemed so distressed.
She didn't know Viride like others, but this wasn't the first Forest filled with Magic she called home. And the difference between the Thicket, and Viride, was like night and day. The Thicket had been filled with life that seemed to sing with its laughter and joy: eager to communicate with any deer beneath its' timber who wished to talk. She had been close with the very spirit of that Forest. . . pure and alive and so willing to give so long as it received in return. Viride . . . . was off, something was wrong. And she wished, nay . . . she yearned to know what, and if she might be able to help it.
Fear held her tongue from voicing these questions. Concern for upsetting those who might still see her as the outsider, the foreigner. Fear of accidentally antagonizing. Fear of the answer itself . . . So she dives instead into the task she'd been given, letting herself fall into the Magic, her energy joining the very flow of energy that gave the forest life, her eyes unfocusing, losing herself briefly in the trails of the Magic that would provide answers to even some of the questions she could not voice. It wasn't often that she'd allow herself to go in the company of others, to show just how her Magic could pull her into the Magic of the Earth, take her into its' folds. Perhaps it was a silent plea for the stallion to see just how useful she could be, or an unspoken desire to re-prove herself as part of Novus, a citizen of Novus instead of a transplant who was stepping in on his branch of Magic.
Perhaps it was just a need to find comfort in the Magic of the Forest, that allowed her to sink so deep in. Or even just a desire to prove herself as a magic wielder. Perhaps it was a little bit of all of it combined. As it was, she allowed the energy to coax her, gently nudging it in the direction she needed for the answer and report she could give, even as the energy tried to pull at her to stay within the flow, caressing her conscious with the sizzling auras. She pulls away fast as the temptation is presented, feeling herself trembling from the overuse, and almost stumbling at the movement of Po, before graciously accepting the strength he accepted as she returned fully to the present. Her smile is tentative, wary as she fights back the tug of energy leaving her body - as if the flow could tempt her back by that alone. A part of her considers what it would mean, to never leave the stream of Magic, of Nature all around her, singing to her in melodies she could harmonize with unspoken ease.
She keeps herself firmly stationed, however, knowing her Magic was not yet strong enough to support that constant or even semi-constant dive that would allow her to split her presence between this plane and that one. One day, perhaps. But not this day. His words catch her off guard, drawing her thoughts out of the energy and her exhaustion from pushing herself back into the conversation. Death. She is silent as he explains they are trying to fight death, like any of them, might be. Her gaze turned towards the trees, her expression shifting to something unreadable as she absorbs his answer. She knew only bits and pieces of the history of the Forest, but the energy, the tainted strands that ran through the Forest, she could read those. And her heart ached for the Forest, a desperate desire welled up, wanting to help - to defend however she could.
His words returned, feeding the growing need for purpose that the doe was starting to be taken by, and her ivy eyes turned towards him silently as she pulled back from his steadying strength - finding her limbs reliable beneath her again, even if bones still felt heavy after the most recent deep dive into the flow. She nodded to his words, of finding whoever was killing the patrons of the Forest, of his intentions to walk the Forest, every inch scored until no one remains to harm it. She can feel the forest quake at his words, her senses adding a more profound level as the energy around them seemed to flare at his declaration, before he broke the question to her.
There was a shift in the doe, as she stood taller, head held high and the determined glint visible in her eye as she met his gaze unyielding, "If it means spending every second in Viride, following the flow until the currents rob me of my own energy, I won't rest until whomever things they can lord over Her children is destroyed. I'm a druid, my duty is to protect the Earth, and all that Nature claims over. Whether it be the trees of the Forest, the birds of the sky, or the rabbits in the field, as long as you walk these forests, I'll be but a silent call away, doing the same." She vowed with determination. She might not have the most comfort or reliance in her place in Dawn Court; she might still feel like the outsider being humored. Still, Novus was now her home, the currents had built her into their energetic flow of Magic, and as long as the Nature of Novus called for her aid, Po would find her ready to defend, her Magic would one day shake the foundation of Novus to the core, rebuild rivers into new alignment, and move groves to new location, but only for the betterment of Novus, only for the improvement of Nature, of Magic. She would defend this land that called to her for aid, and she would do so until her last breath.
flowers grow back
even after they have been stepped on
He had to turn away, when he saw the way the trees leaned back into her when she leaned into them. Something sharp and painful and tasteless rises in his throat, and something burns behind his eyes. But he chokes it down, and forces his lips to curve into a smile even if he can’t meet her gaze. Again he thinks of how green her eyes are, green like ivy, and spring grass, and the forest; green like Somnus’ eyes, green like he wishes sometimes his were.
It had always seemed like all the best people had green eyes; and now that he can hear the desert in his sleep, and feel the sand against his cheek, he thinks he knows why his eyes were made red instead.
Maybe another day he would feel joy at knowing she was like him if only in magic. Maybe when the trees didn’t quake at the sight of him, and when he could stop thinking of the way a sapling both died and thrived before him, and the world began to feel right again. One day he wouldn’t have to ask her what the forest said to her, because he would know; and then they could sit and talk and laugh and he wouldn’t feel like a wolf that no one trusted to be around. One day, it was always one day, some day, never today. He had never been able to capture the future, as much as he chased it.
He nods, every movement shift, and sharp, and weighted. ”I will hold you to that,” he tells her, and there’s a heaviness to his voice that he hates, because it’s the same heaviness that makes his heart feel like it’s struggling to beat. ”And I hope you will remind me to do the same.”
He doesn’t tell her that a part of him is still afraid. Afraid that one day this new-found bravery will fail him, afraid that one day he’ll be able to close his eyes again every time he thinks he sees a monster stalking between the trees. Afraid that one day he might become that monster, the thing the forest needs protecting from. There are a thousand things he doesn’t say, even when the words are dancing on his tongue, and he thinks they might suffocate him if he doesn’t set them free.
He only swallows, and gestures towards the tree. There’s an entire forest to search still, and he knows better than to rest when there is work to be done. So he turns off the path, and tries to think like a killer without turning into one. And everything else around him is a blur as he returns to the hunt.
@Callynite
thought this was a good place to end it!
and I'm sorry this is so much shorter D:
"Speaking."
