Quote:
If you stepped on one of the etched stones - The next night you have a happy dream that brings back a memory you have forgotten, that will stay with you after you wake. Feel free to write a solo in a new thread or in your journal regarding this; if you hit 500 words, you can claim +1 RP point for it! { Source }
- He has spent an (un)reasonable amount of time on the journey away from the obelisk exploring anything which caught his fancy, sticking his nose into things it should not be stuck into, and generally exasperating his poor cheetah's patience. There is mud splattered from hoof to stomach, a porcupine quill pierces into his cheek, and somehow he looks much better than the cheetah at his side; it is drenched from ear-tip to tail, its paws are caked in mud, and it has a scowl radiating from its eyes.
"Oh cheer up, Cat, it was a good day," Travels nudges at the cheetah and when it merely growls in response, "All right, we'll sleep. Will that make you happy?"
The cheetah flops down, ungraceful in his unhappiness, and the buck merely smiles. He shall leave the cat to sulk for now; he sinks down to the ground and then sprawls out. He is quite tired...
He is small; a colt that toddles and tumbles and is often met with incredulous looks that scream -- it's a miracle he lives! -- that grate on his mother's nerves. He knows little, truly, but he has learned pieces of his mother.He knows that when she is happy, it is in her eyes and not her smile. He knows that a smile is often false. He knows that she is curious and smart. He knows that she is his mother but that she is often unhappy about it -- it is the only thing that ever makes him feel sad, the way her chin tucks close to her chest and her ears drop down as though she is about to cry. And he knows, today, she is content, even amused as she leads him through the swamp to somewhere.
It takes all his composure not to be drawn off -- he beams, all teeth and bright eyes, when she mentions how well he is doing at keeping to her side -- as she takes him past a myriad of interesting things. (He bites his tongue when they pass a particularly beautiful flower that looks like a spider.) He notices shadows shorten as the sun rises high; begins to wonder as the length stretches out with the sun's decline. It isn't like his mother to take him so far or on so long a journey. Indeed it is the time of fireflies when his mother turns, neck swiveled and bent low so that their eyes are level, and grins in a way that says: we're here. (Wherever here is...)
He blinks, perplexed, and it isn't until his mother straightens that he realizes this place is different. The grass is not all green but it is not brown; it is orange and blue and yellow and purple! He looks at his mother, waits for a nod of permission before he rushes forward in a manner that is all tipsy, tripping madness. A rush that alerts the resting wildlife and suddenly the colt finds himself in a mass of rising butterflies. His mouth opens in awe and he spends hours, pouncing and prancing, nose down low and angled upward to take in all the butterflies in flight and rest and in-between. So much so that it does not take long for his energy to wane and soon he crashes to the ground, eyes drifting closed and heartbeat slow. And it is in this place of not-yet-asleep but dream-ready that he hears his mother's voice, feels her curls down near him to provide warmth and protection.
- "You're so different from me," and he's never heard that tone before. "Oh but neither us of were afforded the caregivers we should have had. The ones who raised me were all sweetness who couldn't have believed me anything but perfection. You may have flourished under their care...," she sighs, heaviness that tightens his chest.
"Then again perhaps to be coddled, as I refuse to do, you would have been in more danger. I fear for you; you're so oblivious and unique. One day you'll--oh, I do love you." And somehow he understands that which is unspoken, beyond what he should be able to understand. She fears it is her fault he is this way. He nuzzles closer to her, tries to convey that he loves her, too.
Travels in Circles awakes when the sun warms through his fur and into bones. A memory he had forgotten as he is wont to do. A recollection that reveals his mother to him in a light he has not equated to her own adventures in motherhood with his in fatherhood. The fear of failure blossoms in every parent. And while he has never doubted her care, her love, for him -- never brooded over what could have been if only -- he has wondered, in his own abstract way, if she wouldn't have preferred to have never known him...
He smiles. The dream is a memory that tells him that once she did know him she was always going to be there. He remembers the awe of seeing hundreds, millions, of butterflies and she could have left him there all alone. Indeed, if she had, he may not have even noticed; he may have not even remembered he had a mother still living. And yet she would have know that, brilliant mastermind that she was and is. He smiles; his mother stayed, continues to stay. Even if he is daft.
