khiarhu
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- Posted: Thu, 10 Apr 2008 06:09:36 +0000
...//Solo - Truths of Creation & Annotated Darkness
Ivynian
There were truths to the planes that had been Created. Of these, indigenous to himself were Suffering and Silence.
It was not a Silence of Being that plagued him. One of those, while reborn, had no power over this.
This.
A Silence from outside. Beyond the outstretched arms of Universe, the strangely slender belly of Gaia, past reaches of empty and half-ghosted forms, and thinking….being Aware there, he could feel it. Remember it. There was Nothing, and is existed only within Him. Not Creation, the Primordial, the Immortals or Gods, the Aoide, the Mortals. It dwelt there and it festered, drumming the marks of time-measure that remained before it would spread into his veins and come. A Name would be lost completely. The names of all things would be swallowed, as they themselves were swallowed, and that unBeing Silence would be all that was withinOut
of the Void.
And here sat two gems of His own Chosen upon His lap, half drunk by this Unnamed thing. Ages past of glory, then lonliness, and finally hope. He had gathered them all again, all the strands like silk of finest godly mana. There were no more left in those scoured planes that had not been taken, used into some other substantial thing. The Life of the gods was so much taken in to sustain what Was in their absence this way. The Kings suffered no different. Each had been presented to suited hosts once, and did not wake.
There was the possibility that the last remnants that had been gathered
Were not
Enough.
Not even quarter-borne visions of scales and mane, claw and shining eye, could manifest from memories thin as water. A god was not made from water alone. They were older, infused with True Name and blood or filament of Creation. Made and begotten, holding blessed Soma mixed with sap and blood, breath, fruit and body. But these two, among all that had been reborn, remained only ghosts of these things.
What had been collected? Echoes of roars that still called across the starfields, single scales from battlefields long dried and parched white of blood, splinters of broken claw, a bauble or gem from a horde scattered.
Not. Enough.
Still worse the return of Yu, his five-clawed imperial, could not be afforded for lack of even a fitting host. Futs, at least, slept fitful coils in memory of failed ash and rid-of bone. Slept, and did not suffer that there may or may not be host present in the walking lands suitable for his essence. But Yu was silent. No scales, no awareness spoke from the gem. On search there was no host for Yu that had appeared to godly eyes. The mana dwindled.
There may be no return for the Five Clawed. As first Fire had gathered and did not speak, held no name within what could be gathered, He feared the same emptiness wept from the Chosen gem. The Nameless drank it away.
He lifted the gems, kissed each and thrust them in, deep through the closed scar that covered where heart-meat wounded had rested, where still beat
Echoes
The unperished echoes of first beats, first thrums inside the chaos. Pure, unbridled existence that lashed and meted out what Was. The heart beat of All, missing heart. The stones would sit in state a while, charged again by this much. That noise may wake them, break their roars from them and give them back their names on whispered, forgotten tongue from pale, most perfect lips. His other own.
It was not a Silence of Being that plagued him. One of those, while reborn, had no power over this.
This.
A Silence from outside. Beyond the outstretched arms of Universe, the strangely slender belly of Gaia, past reaches of empty and half-ghosted forms, and thinking….being Aware there, he could feel it. Remember it. There was Nothing, and is existed only within Him. Not Creation, the Primordial, the Immortals or Gods, the Aoide, the Mortals. It dwelt there and it festered, drumming the marks of time-measure that remained before it would spread into his veins and come. A Name would be lost completely. The names of all things would be swallowed, as they themselves were swallowed, and that unBeing Silence would be all that was withinOut
of the Void.
And here sat two gems of His own Chosen upon His lap, half drunk by this Unnamed thing. Ages past of glory, then lonliness, and finally hope. He had gathered them all again, all the strands like silk of finest godly mana. There were no more left in those scoured planes that had not been taken, used into some other substantial thing. The Life of the gods was so much taken in to sustain what Was in their absence this way. The Kings suffered no different. Each had been presented to suited hosts once, and did not wake.
There was the possibility that the last remnants that had been gathered
Were not
Enough.
Not even quarter-borne visions of scales and mane, claw and shining eye, could manifest from memories thin as water. A god was not made from water alone. They were older, infused with True Name and blood or filament of Creation. Made and begotten, holding blessed Soma mixed with sap and blood, breath, fruit and body. But these two, among all that had been reborn, remained only ghosts of these things.
What had been collected? Echoes of roars that still called across the starfields, single scales from battlefields long dried and parched white of blood, splinters of broken claw, a bauble or gem from a horde scattered.
Not. Enough.
Still worse the return of Yu, his five-clawed imperial, could not be afforded for lack of even a fitting host. Futs, at least, slept fitful coils in memory of failed ash and rid-of bone. Slept, and did not suffer that there may or may not be host present in the walking lands suitable for his essence. But Yu was silent. No scales, no awareness spoke from the gem. On search there was no host for Yu that had appeared to godly eyes. The mana dwindled.
There may be no return for the Five Clawed. As first Fire had gathered and did not speak, held no name within what could be gathered, He feared the same emptiness wept from the Chosen gem. The Nameless drank it away.
He lifted the gems, kissed each and thrust them in, deep through the closed scar that covered where heart-meat wounded had rested, where still beat
Echoes
The unperished echoes of first beats, first thrums inside the chaos. Pure, unbridled existence that lashed and meted out what Was. The heart beat of All, missing heart. The stones would sit in state a while, charged again by this much. That noise may wake them, break their roars from them and give them back their names on whispered, forgotten tongue from pale, most perfect lips. His other own.