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 Posted: Mon Oct 27, 2014 10:30 am
Send My Regards to the Goddess of Light Word Count: 4,390
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Posted: Mon Oct 27, 2014 10:31 am
Send My Regards to the Goddess of Light
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Posted: Mon Oct 27, 2014 10:32 am
Who Loves All The Little Children? Candles flickered in the light of late evening, sending shadows skittering down the stony surface of Soudana’s sanctuary. Detraeus stood in the arch of the entryway, staring down the dimly lit aisle that lead to the church’s main body wherein a narrow line of pews waited. It smelled of incense. Mostly cheap scents burnt from herbs common in the local area, but a few intertwining ones native solely to Soudul. As he stepped further in, moving to where the room broadened and laying his hand on the wooden back of a pew, his brow knotted in thought, plagued by a question that had haunted him ever more frequently as of late. Always, for so long as Detraeus had memory to reminisce on it, Soudana had been his goddess: his mother, his protector, his answer in a world otherwise empty of them. He had always considered her his savior, giving him the rallying strength to pull himself from the hell he’d been raised in and teaching him what it meant to be a weapon in her name. For him — and him alone — it had fit perfectly. Black and white lines of certainty suited him, and answers fell into place. But his life was no longer black and white, nor did it any longer revolve solely around him. Where once, an absolute purpose suited him — dedicating his life to driving back Seren’s beasts at whatever cost to himself or others — now, he could not tailor himself to that pattern. He had other responsibilities. Araceli and the children she carried came before all else, and while a concept of justice, revenge, still lingered in the shadows of his mind, he had put it on hold. Not indefinitely, perhaps, but significantly enough so that he wondered where his concept of his goddess fell into place in his life as it was. Where did a goddess of war come into play when raising children? Did a divine being who gave her own children no souls put any weight in the life and livelihood of those born not purely to her line? Would infants who owned half their lineage to the dragon god have souls, and could or would a deity of darkness look over said souls if they did? Guilt intertwined with his questions. As though he were betraying Soudana for wondering. Or had betrayed her simply for siring such children. That thought, though, he dismissed quickly. If she considered it a betrayal, it was one he would live with. One he would have to live with, and one he would never regret. To him, both Araceli and his unborn children were a blessing, which brought him inevitably to his next question. At which god’s feet was he to place thanks for his fortunes? Initial instinct would have suggested Soudana. He had always credited her with every fortune that came his way, thanked her for his victories, and apologized for his failures. Now, however, his mind warred with itself by sheer virtue of the following: None of his most recent blessings served Soudana’s motives. Quite the opposite, Araceli had driven him away from his path for vengeance. She calmed him, encouraged him out of the line of danger, and gave him other things to hope for, all factors that were once completely absent from his life. Now, the children she carried — his children — pulled him ever further away from the line of battle. And she was dovaa. If Soudana dictated his fate, then by the same logic, Abronaxus dictated hers, and where the wills of the gods conflicted, the wills of mortals intervened. Who, then, but the god of peace and harmony would have guided one of his own daughters into Detraeus’ path? Putting Araceli in Detraeus’ life diminished his value to Soudana and distracted him from her, but every step he had taken since furthered the mandate — as he had come to understand it from limited knowledge — of the dragon god. Mixed blood children were not openly stated to be accepted by any god, even Abronaxus, but if there were to be a god who would devote even a moment of their time to a hybrid soul… Detraeus frowned, fingers lingering and tracing along the wood of the pew under them before he turned and made his way out. Odd as the assertion seemed to him, Detraeus felt it was high time he have a conversation with Lithian about his god. Word Count: 763
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Posted: Fri Oct 31, 2014 11:04 am
Oh, Brother, Where Art Thou? Word Count: 2,511
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Posted: Fri Oct 31, 2014 11:07 am
Oh, Brother, Where Art Thou?
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Posted: Sat Nov 01, 2014 6:38 pm
How to be a Heartbreaker Word Count: 3,697
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Posted: Sat Nov 01, 2014 6:40 pm
How to be a Heartbreaker
Araceli's parents came to visit. While at first, their presence was my primary concern, before the end of their stay, I was reminded of worse things. The man who gave Ara her scar is now dead, and the job I should have finished outside the pit is now complete. We are heading into the mountains.
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Posted: Sat Nov 01, 2014 10:13 pm
Chocolate and Starlight Word Count: 1,159
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Posted: Sat Nov 01, 2014 10:16 pm
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Posted: Sun Nov 02, 2014 12:09 am
Cast Me Gently Into Morning Word Count: -
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Posted: Sun Nov 02, 2014 12:11 am
Cast Me Gently Into Morning
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Posted: Sun Nov 02, 2014 10:17 am
The Keeper of Lost Souls “Lithian…” At the sound of his name, Lithian looked up from where he had been kneeling at the water’s edge, and stood. Dusting earth from his knees, he eyed Detraeus for some time before tilting his head. “Yes?” Late morning sun spilled over the small lake outside Detraeus and Araceli’s mountain residence, catching on the peaks of ripples created by the passing breezes. It was two days after the birth of their twins, and he and Casseth had been lingering, again, as a precautionary measure with intentions to leave soon in the coming days. Lithian still did not know wholly what to make of Detraeus. He felt, to Lith, like a paradox of juxtaposed extremes: gentleness and great love for his mate and children set in contrast to all the traits Lithian tended towards labeling him with more naturally. Brutality. Violence. Hate. Anger. As he stood across from him now, quiet, composed, and still, Lithian knew not which to expect out of him. Detraeus took his time in voicing his question. “I…would like to thank you,” he said, the words stiff as a rarely-worn shoe, unused to seeing the light of day, and Lithian’s eyebrows arched appropriately. “And apologize…” Lithian bit back a question about whether or not Detraeus was feeling entirely well and if he wanted a check-up. Instead, after an extended pause, he shrugged. “Consider your apology accepted. Is that what you came to say?” “No. Yes. Some,” Detraeus responded and frowned before continuing. “I wanted to say it,” he clarified. “I also…wanted to ask you a question…” Lithian blinked, genuinely startled, and curious. “Oh…?” “Mm.” Detraeus grunted and shifted his weight, tail sweeping to the opposite side of his legs and coiling a fraction, indecisive. “What manner of question?” Lithian prompted. “I would like…to ask you about your god,” Detraeus said. “Abronaxus.” Lithian’s eyebrows arched further. Of all the things he might have anticipated… “Why?” Detraues’ brow furrowed, and he lifted a hand, pulling at his ear as he diverted his stare. “My children,” he said, “are not born wholly of Soudana…do you suppose that your dragon god gives souls to those born only half of his bloodline?” Oh. As comprehension dawned on Lithian, he flushed. Oh. “I cannot say that I know,” he admitted. In truth, the writings of his god — as with the others, so far as he knew — mentioned only those of pure descent. Dovaa, and dovaa alone were permitted into the planes beyond, dedicated to the souls of his children. At the same time, however, Lithian recognized that the scriptures of Abronaxus were written by people, not the god himself, and of the three reigning deities of Magesc, his was the middle ground. “Hybrid children are not spoken of in his church…but were I a priest for his faith, as I once was want to be, I would pray for the souls of any and all his children, including those of mixed lineage. Abronaxus is a god of peace, compromise, and unity between extremes,” Lithian said. “I can only assume he would want this for all, and I would preach it as such. Does that answer your question?” Detraeus hesitated. “If I were to pray to him…for the health and safety of my children, what is customary?” Lithian smiled, something in his posture relaxing, and he moved forward. Together with Detraeus, he spent the remainder of the morning speaking of his god, answering Detraeus’ questions — of which he had many — and humoring his curiosities. They spoke of his connection to the faith, its core principles, differing interpretations of Abronaxus’ will and, in particular, Lithian’s politically and socially radical stance, as illustrated by his previous statement, that he felt all but certain Abronaxus was the keeper of all lost souls. A sheppard religion, under whose guardianship any and all were welcome to include themselves in the flock. It became, in the end, the longest conversation the two men had ever shared with each other, and certainly the most peaceful. Word Count: 679
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Posted: Mon Nov 03, 2014 7:23 pm
Fur Between the Toes Word Count: 819
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Posted: Mon Nov 03, 2014 7:27 pm
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Posted: Mon Nov 03, 2014 7:28 pm
Soudana's Lullaby♫ ♪ Tune ♫ ♪ A baby’s cry cut into the night. Though quiet at first, whined and groggy with recent sleep, it soon picked up, gaining volume with each breath, and eventually, sighing, Detraeus rose from the bed he shared with his mate and moved to the crib beside it. Ataya, of course, was the trouble-maker. Akara, amazingly, looked sound asleep still — perhaps worn entirely out by her brother’s earlier bouts of angst, or perhaps simply gifted with an innate ability to sleep through anything. Regardless, Detraeus clicked his tongue, giving quiet, tired murmurs as he reached in and down to lift out his only son. “Shhhhh, tshhh, tshhhhh,” he said, tucking his fussy infant into the niche of his arm and rocking gently. “It’s night, child…I know half your blood speaks to the moon, but your mother needs her rest…” “Nn-nnnnh—!” Ataya gave a muted whine, punctuating his cries, and then promptly returned to full-on bawling. Of the two of them, he cried easily over twice as much as his sister, and while he was perfectly content to sleep at all hours of the day — and even seemed averse to being woken during them — he woke, unhappy and restless, at all periods during the night. After a brief period of trying to calm him beside the crib, Detraeus gave up hope for a quick fix and moved out of the room, shutting the door quietly behind him. With him awake already, he saw no additional need to disturb both his mate and daughter with Ata’s fussing. So, he moved into the living room with him, rocking and murmuring through Ataya’s cries. In the hearth, the last few embers of an all but fully-extinguished fire glimmered like lonely stars. They left the room black, but for the few rays of Soudana’s moon seeping through windows, and even those were muted, thanks to the thick blanket of snow and nearly perpetual cloud cover outdoors. Not that it mattered to Detraeus’ vision. He took long, slow strides back and forth over the wood panelled floor, fingers tracing patterns up and down Ata’s back as he went. “Please, little one,” he entreated as the minutes wore on, seemingly endless. “We must sleep…” Detraeus’ brow furrowed, a thought occurring to him as he walked and Ataya cried. Often, when trying to calm them or put them to sleep, Araceli sang to them. Even he appreciated it, since — until then — he had never heard her voice put to a melody. He, though, had never even attempted. Or, certainly not for anyone else. As he thought on it, it came to mind that he had on certain occasions sung or hummed to himself, more often when he was much younger as a means to comfort himself. Something he did without thinking. Now, he tried to remember the tune. “ Ai, sha’lah yae,” he began with barely a whisper of a melody, the language of Soudana more sounds than words on his tongue, “… issa de’nah tra, masa ni shino vei toeh raei…” Immediately, Ataya’s crying petered out. His hands, tiny still at three months, stilled at his daddy’s chest, and his eyes opened, wide with curiosity and staring up expectantly. Detraeus frowned down at him. “Truly…? You are not going to make me do thi—” “Nnnnnh—” Ataya blubbered, bitty fists balling up again as his eyes watered, and Detraeus murmured something that was absolutely not a curse word in front of his infant. He cleared his throat, and started back up singing. His voice sounded low and hoarse to his own ear. Off-key, underused, and strange. But between it, and the distant, natural lullaby of the wind as a backdrop, Ataya slowly but surely relaxed in his arms. When he finished this time, Ata’s eyes were shut, long lashes resting peacefully on the mottled skin of his cheeks and body pliable and at ease in his embrace. Detraeus flushed, not having expected such a thing to work, but feeling accomplished nonetheless. Not daring to make another sound or disturb his son’s hard-earned sleep, he slipped silently back into the bedroom and pressed a feather-light kiss to the crown of his head before laying him gently into his crib again. By some miracle, Ataya remained asleep, and Detraeus crawled gratefully back into his own bed beside his mate. Word Count: 729
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