“Does legend and time create the antagonist or does the antagonist create the myth over time? Is there really such a thing as heroes and villains locked in an epic battle of good versus evil or is that just what the legends want you to believe? What if the heroes you worship in all those stories were actually the villains and the villains were actually the heroes? How can this be, you all probably ask, and let me respond to your question with another, who determines which history is true? Now do you see how everything has become twisted? I will leave it up to you to determine if the tale I am about to tell next is really how it seems.”
All Hallows’ Eve had come at last and with it the completion of the shaman’s prophecy. The witching hour was upon them and still there was no sign, no movement, from within the basket upon the ground. Whispers slither through the night; they come from everywhere and nowhere, all converging upon the still basket.
Sacrificial daughter upon the altar, Burdened with a destiny the Gods cannot alter. Born of darkness on All Hallows’ Night, Never to awaken to see the Light. With her first waning breath She will become the Lady of Death.
A long haggard intake of breath pierces the whispers and then silence fills the night as the foal sacrifices her life to the Gods and becomes the Lady of Death.
A decrepit creature limps forward and little by little drags the basket away into the night; the whispers pay the pathetic creature no mind, for they have come to see what they had come to see, the birth of a Goddess. However, that is not what they saw that night; no deity was born that night, instead a being of darkness, a Demon, manifested. She desired to eradicate all light within the shadows, in doing so, she come to be the infamous She Who Swallowed the Stars.
For a day and a night, the old crone dragged the basket to her lair, where she surrounded the sequestered Lady of Death with sun bleached bones and dried herbs.
Awaken my Child of the Dead, Your destiny of twists is ahead, Grandmother is calling your spirit here, Before the veils between the worlds disappear.
The basket started to shake, the bones around began to rattle, and a blood chilling laugh erupted from the basket. Smoke began to filter through the wicker, in a blink of an eye, the basket was aflame and in the middle of the inferno, the Lady of Death stood. Her paws dug into the earth and her bushy tail wrapped around herself as her unseeing eyes glowed with fire.
Many moon turns passed, and the young foal became a mare, but never once had she been able to see the light, forever cast in darkness. Grandmother watched as the Lady of Death grew, a wicked gleam in her eye.
One morning Grandmother called Muerte to her side and told her of the plight of the stars, how those who only wanted day desired their destruction. They could not succeed, for in doing so would rid the world of darkness.
The Lady of Death was at a loss, she did not wish for darkness to disappear and light to rule supreme. So she did what she had to do, she opened her wide gaping maw and swallowed the stars to keep them safe. Light had vanished from the night, the people cried out for a hero, for someone to save them from this fright.
Hence, the ones who wished to rid the world of darkness came, gallant and brave, to bring back the stars that the villain had swallowed. A battle raged on between good and evil, light and dark, until finally a star shone once again in the sky, followed by another, and another until the night again once again had their guiding light.
Many days the people celebrated light’s victory over the dark and soon the story became a myth and the myth became a legend.
There are times when you can see She Who Swallowed the Stars walking beneath the vast sky, her scarf rippling with stars that desire to return to the heavens. However, be wary, for she is a Demon with no soul of her own, thus she wanders the land searching and will do so for all eternity…
“Heroes and Villains always at odds, but again I ask you, who is truly the hero of the tale?
That was many years ago, when I was still young and foolish; blind in both love and eyes, I could not perceive what events were about to befall me.
After being the recipient of many names, I finally chose a name for myself and that name was Camellia, for it was simple and elegant like the flowers around my neck. Throughout the years, the names others have bestowed upon me continue to grow as the myth of my villainy distorts with each telling. To them I am Villain, Lady of the Dead, Muerte, Mictecacihuatl, She Who Swallowed the Stars, Devil, and Demon.
That is how the story goes, of course, there have been drastic changes to what really happened, but who are you to believe?
I am a villain after all.”
*Personality and Plots in Spoiler*
Name: Camellia
Personality: She is who she is, to some that is a villain and others that is a hero, mostly it depends on the story that they have heard or if they have even heard about her supposed past. Cam has accepted her villainy, for why should she fight the myth and legend? Only those who take the time to look past the Demon will see her for what she truly is, a lost soul in need of a friend and a guide.
Camellia is unable to see the world around her, never once had she seen the light, since birth she has been held within darkness’ cool embrace. Over the years, she has perfected the art of being blind, so much so that when she encounters someone new they do not suspect she cannot actually see them. Because her eyes are not functional, her other senses have become heightened: she can smell rain upon the air, hear an increase in heart rate, feel the shift in temperature weeks before the first signs of the seasons begin to show, and taste an assortment of different flavors that seemed to dance across her tongue.
Because of her heightened senses, she has become proficient in determining maladies and providing the appropriate herbs to help with such ailments. She considers herself to be a Curandera, creating talismans out of bone and herbs for luck, health, prosperity, and so on for those who desire her aid. Happy parents asked Cam to bestow blessings upon their foals on their Name Sake Day. For the first time in a long while, she was happy, until one of the foals she blessed became stricken and died, soon stories of her past surfaced, she was no longer their Curandera but an evil witch or sorcerous who desired to eat the souls of their children.
Anger at the world for its mistreatment of her is always a dull throbbing ache within her heart, at times she wants nothing more than to set the world ablaze and have them all suffer as she has suffered. Sometimes she gives into this urge and causes malady to befall a herd by poisoning the water source or food source; only the strong survive. After those bouts of anger she would feel guilty and try to help as many people as possible, as if to make up for her sins.
She would start a new life, be happy and then the downward spiral would happen again. She was a villain, villains only achieved happiness in their dreams, and even those were nothing but nightmares. There was no rest for the wicked.
Plots
Hero or Villain?: Cam will encounter someone who is like her, but are they a “hero” or are they a “villain”? Will she be burned by knowing them or will this meeting be the beginning of an alliance?
Nobody and Nothing: Before Cam had named herself, she was Nobody. Yes, she had names the people gave her, but never one that someone who cared about her gave to her. Since she had been taken as a basket she did not know her real family. This is a plot where She Who Swallowed the Stars meets The Nothing, her long lost sister.
Evil Godmother: The tradition of blessing a foal on its Name Sake Day has begun to blossom around the area Cam currently calls home. Angry at not receiving an invitation, Cam crashes the celebration. To appease her, the parents make Cam the Godmother of one of the foals. What does this entail? Does the foal go live with her? What happens?
Wicked Ways and Fruitful Days: This will be a plot with her grandchild. What adventures or misadventures do they get in? What do the parents think of this (if they are still in the picture)?
The Truth Behind the Myth: This will be the first time that anyone will hear the truth or what Cam believes to be the truth of what really happened that night when the sky went dark and light vanished from the darkness.
Redemption: Now that the truth is out, will Cam be redeemed or is she too much the villain that society made her to be to become the hero she should be?
Quote:
Disclaimer: That the story told above has changed as the myth traveled, details have been exaggerated and some are downright false. The only one who knows the truth is Camellia, but who is going to believe the words of a villain?
Side Note: Since she is blind, even her perception of those events will be skewed and unreliable. How would she be able to tell if the stars really vanished from the skies or not if she cannot even see? She only had the words of the old mare who had manipulated her since birth and only had her word that it was all true.
Posted: Fri Oct 09, 2015 9:14 am
Follow the Trail...
Username(s): Fatal Irony
Entry:
Name: Hecate "The Exiled Princess" Meaning: Hecate is a goddess in Greek religion and mythology, most often shown holding two torches or a key and in later periods depicted in triple form. She was variously associated with crossroads, entrance-ways, dogs, light, the moon, magic, witchcraft, knowledge of herbs and poisonous plants, ghosts, necromancy, and sorcery. Temper: Mysterious Parents: Father was the ruling King of the Herd of the Moon. Unknown Status. Mother is unknown, but rumored to be a witch, an ill omen for the herd. Unknown status.
Herd of the Moon very basic info and history of all involved:
These two come from the same herd as Hecate:
Far away from the kawani lands there was a plush and fertile valley filled with life, but sharply divided. A river ran along its center, marking the boundary where the two groups dared not tread. On the one side, the Herd of the Sun, the Scions of Light. On the other, in the shadow of the mountains, rested the Herd of the Moon, Harbingers of Darkness. For years beyond memory the two sides fought until an uneasy truce was struck by the current ruling families. The Sun would stay on one side of the river and come out by day and the Moon would stay in the shadow of the mountain and come out by night. The two were not to cross the river or mingle in any way.
Among the Herd of the Moon were several ruling families. Those who had glowing eyes were considered touched by the Goddess of the Moon herself and were venerated above the others. They were each given a patch of land to govern, and the other members of the Great Herd fell into the general rule of one of these families based on where they chose to live. Ruling them all was the Royal Family, of which Sin was the eldest son and heir.
Sin was betrothed to Demeira, the daughter of one of the ruling families of the herd. It was a match made by their parents for political reasons and not fueled by love at all. Merging the two powerful families was in hopes of quelling some disquiet in the herd. However Sin fell in love with a mare from the Sun herd, a forbidden act. The mare left her herd following a carnival, and Sin left to follow her. Demeira, not to be spurned so easily, followed him into the Kawani lands.
MEANWHILE in the Herd of the Moon, the Queen was found to be infertile and Sin's father took it upon himself to create an heir somewhere else, causing a huge scandal. Particularly because the mare was a stranger - a mutant with the paws of a dog. They did not trust her, nor the spawn she created. The king tried to raise up his new daughter as his Heir, having lost Sin, but the herd rebelled. He had just enough time to wrap a starry scarf around her before Hecate was cast out, but the riots didn't stop there. The status of the Herd is now unknown.
History: Hecate had managed to make it to adulthood, largely hidden away by her father for fear she would be murdered if discovered. He had tried to pass her off as the legitimate Princess by his Queen, but the Herd saw through the act and Hecate was violently cast out, nearly killed in the process. She fled as far as she could - finding herself in the Kawani lands. Lacking any direction she wandered for a long time, nursing her wounds and wondering what to do. She'd been raised as a Princess, Heir to the large herd and all the responsibility and entitlements that entailed. She was now in exile, unable to return home for fear they would kill her. Eventually it occurred to her that she still had a bit of family left - in Sin. He was the brother she'd never met, but he too was exiled and he was the last bit of blood she had left to claim. Her mind made up, she started on the long and difficult path of finding him.
Personality: She's something of a darker personality, finding fascination in the macabre and beauty in suffering. She doesn't go around CAUSING that suffering... usually. But when she comes upon those who are injured or sick she can see the grace and the razor's edge all beings walk between life and death and how fragile the grip on the former is. She is very aware of the idea of mortality and how very temporary life truly is. Because of this she tends not to fuss about superficial issues or problems, looking at the bigger picture of things instead. Part of this was instilled in her from an early age, since that is a mindset most effective rulers must have. She prefers largely to be alone, though she doesn't mind the company of others from time to time. She muses sometimes on whether her preferences have to do with a personality trait she was born with or the isolation she endured for most of her life as her father hid her away from the Herd. Perhaps it was a bit of both.
Hecate inherited much from her mother, though she'd never met her. The older mare had been sent away, disappeared in the night with the second basket she'd borne - another sibling Hecate may never know. Still, she could tell from the differences she had from her father what similarities she shared with her mother. Apart from the obvious physical differences she had an affinity for fire that the King did not understand. She sometimes saw things in the flames, "visions" as she called them. She believes she can see the future if she looks hard enough. She feels herself to be standing on the crossroads between the living world and the spirit world and is particularly sensitive to otherworldly presences. Some call her a witch, much as her mother was called. She doesn't mind the title.
As she travels she will rest in one place long enough to cultivate her blue roses. These are flowers that do not occur in nature, but she has enough knowledge of plants that she can create them to wear. She has a fascination with the odd and the impossible, and to her the blue roses symbolize that. She's able to treat them so that her flower necklace will last longer, instead of rotting away as quickly as roses tended to do. She also has extensive knowledge in plants that pertains to herbs that aid in healing - and poisons. She has a fascination with the effects different poisons can have on the body, ranging from making one sick to being deadly.
She wears the starry scarf her father hastily bestowed on her both as a connection to her past, but also in hopes when she finds her half-brother he might recognize it and know her for who she is. She isn't sure how else she might convince him of their shared bloodline, but perhaps it will not matter. She had a plan, after all, and whether he wished to be part of it or not was his choice. Despite the fact she had been isolated growing up, she had still been raised to rule and had made up her mind that she would. She planned to build up a new herd here in the Kawani lands, hopefully with the help of her brother. She only hoped she could find him.
********Just as a note - She doesn't actually see the future of course. She just believes she does. I don't want to break any shop rules on powers XD ************
Entry: It was many many moons ago, before the keeping of dates and times and on the most sacred of days when a life was born, breathing the essence of the day itself. Dia las de Muerta even received her name from this hallowed day. Many of her herd worshiped her as though she were the physical embodiment of it. For the longest time she tried to insist that she was just like them, but her scorched foot prints and burning eyes did little to help her case. Eventually she gave in to finally accepting that this was to be her fate. Not long after, her herd started to dwindle and other herds started to soon drift away from the scared day and it's celebrations. Never one to be daunted, Dia continued to throw her celebration year after year.
It got smaller and smaller each time. No other herd outside of hers even thought of the day after a time. Then her herd got ever so small until she found herself sitting next to the last on their final day. Being as she was, she made it extravagant and never left their side. It was only after they had passed on that she cried for the first time. Oh how could her people have all gone? How could the other herds simply forgotten? Did they not realize how important remembering was? For quite some time she just wallowed in her misery her eyes beginning to dim and herself fading much like her day.
That was until she heard a noise. It sounded awfully like a celebration! Perking up she found herself drawn toward the noise. As she came nearer she did find a party of sorts. Not wanting to intrude she stayed to the shadows and watched. Her vibrancy began to return, her eyes flaring to full life again. These others felt as if they believed in days, days just like hers. Maybe, maybe the forgotten could be remembered again. Contented, she set about getting ready for the most sacred days. This one would surely be the biggest celebration she'd thrown yet!
Posted: Fri Oct 09, 2015 4:43 pm
Follow the Trail...
Username(s): ~Latonia de la Courtel~ Name: Mictecacihuatl Temper: Mummer
Entry:One look at her pelt and they had a name for her, complex and somewhat unwieldy though it was. They called her Mictecacihuatl, a child of the spirits, a last chance to save a herd that was sick and dying. If she could be raised to her prime and the herd remained intact, they would be cured with her sacrifice. She was painted by the spirits, they said, a sign.
They would make sugar skulls in her memory, and grow marigolds that were her favorite. Fierce orange like her eyes, but soothing, the source of her favorite tea. They would set fires during All Hallows, and drink cider and dance in her honor.
If they gave her up, never again would they need to worry about foals stillborn, young mares struck down with their first foaling, stallions killed in their prime. She could tend the bones of the dead, and the herd could grow strong again. But the All Hallows Eve before, something went wrong and the whole of the herd was killed. All of the herd, except Mictecacihuatl. Sweet, young Mictecacihuatl, who walked away without a mark and did not speak for over a year.
For a time after that she wandered alone, seeming to come to life whenever she had the opportunity to join Mummers bands. The traveling groups were plentiful in the land that was her home, and she took each opportunity to join them with a bright gladness. There were times the summer sun overwhelmed her, made it hard for her to continue. It was during a day such as this that one of the band presented her with silken scarves, the first of which were cream-colored and felt like air against her pelt. "It will keep you cool," He advised, and so they had. She had worn them ever since, becoming accustomed to tossing an arc of fabric over her head to shield her strange eyes and burning mouth. At night around a dying camp fire her expression was more freely visible, but during the harsh light of day she hid herself away.
Still, traveling with a troupe of mummers allowed her to let go of some of the caution she had learned due to her fierce appearance. Their free and playful natures taught her to relax, to dance in honor of the spirits that marked her pelt. Her new friends let her celebrate with a fierce role in their plays and threw an even fiercer celebration afterwards. And suddenly, she had a new home. Surrounded by her troup-mates she was welcome into many herd lands, a tame terror they watched with delight. ***
But now it is fall, the season she always wanders alone... A time she reflects on the herd that she left behind, the ones that first named her. For some reason she is drawn away from the usual paths, wanders through the Kawani forest, pays no mind to how the small creatures squeak and quake and flee in fright. She is used to it now, and willmake no move to threaten them. Perhaps, with time, they will learn she means no harm.
Her voice is soft and sweet as she sings: "When owls call the breathless moon In the blue veil of the night The shadows of the trees appear Amidst the lantern light." ***
Distracted by the distant sound of laughter and the scent of a fire, Micte hesitated for a moment in her journey, and instead of wandering onward she moved toward a glade just beyond the garden. There two mares dance around each other and a few little fires, attended by white rabbits with bright colored garments. Their tails are strange and twisted, their eyes wide and bright,and she's impressed by the sizes of their grins and the fact that their paws seem to vanish every third step and return again on the fifth.
"Oh excuse me, Irina." The dark mare says to her burgundy companion. "Sister dear."
"It's all I ever do for you, it seems." The burgundy mare teases, and they share wide, identical grins before attending the teapots. "Make excuses. Very well, you may have another then. The Raspberry Lemon is ready for steeping, I hope you won't be all day."
"My Blueberry Bliss tea has already started, you had better get to it or I shall begin drinking without you." The blue mare countered, lifting a teapot away from the fire.
"What a fine affair this appears to be." Micte observed with a wide grin as she shook the hood back, revealing her strange face. "Pardon my intrusion. May I join you for tea? I can pay you in a story or two, if you like..."
Waiting for the answer, she glances around the woods with interest, pretending not to notice how their grins widen and eyes sharpen. Cats and their curiosity, she might have known. "This seems like a very interesting place... Perhaps I shall stay awhile."
The sisters grinned at their new companion, smiles wide and bright. They did not appear afraid at all, merely pleased to have company.
"Oh yes," began one with a nod. "please do!" Finished the other. "I will pour the tea if you like?" "And you may have a cake too!"
In short order they had settled and Micte was telling them about herself between bites of cake and sips of tea. "After I left the herd lands behind, I traveled alone for awhile. Eventually I crossed paths with some troubadours that were glad to have me along and teach me their ways. I confess in one way or another, I have been traveling and performing ever since."
"And what such acts do you perform?" One of them asked, and with the fire so low and they themselves so similar, Micte wasn't sure which had actually asked.
"Oh I have been the terror often enough, as you imagine. Still, I think my favorite is one that my last troup and I came up with. It is a comedy they call 'The Most Lamentable Tale of the Reluctant Ghost'. It is a story about a lazy spirit that does not want to go out on All Hallows' Eve and scare anyone. She just wants to stay home and eat a sugar skull and sleep."
The pair dissolved into giggles of delight, sprawling over each other. Micte watched them in amusement, sipping her tea as they recovered.
"Now then," One of the Cheshires began when they had calmed, glancing around as though she had just noticed night was upon them and the fire dancing bright. "How late it has gotten and we only now hear of this!! With our offerings of tea and cake and good company, could we not have a small performance?"
"Oh yes, do show is this most reluctant ghost!!"
"Well..." She smiled and slowly drew herself to her full height. "If you insist..."
Disclaimer: Inspired by the Lady of the Underworld from Aztec Myth, this mare is singing lyrics of Lorenna Mckennit's "Mummer's Dance".
ToniCourtel
Illuminated Apparition
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Rita Zyon
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Posted: Fri Oct 09, 2015 5:56 pm
Follow the Trail...
Username(s): Rita Zyon
Entry: Name: ??? Temper: Sheltered
It seemed like everyday was a celebration for the herd. She grew up in a herd that lived in a series of inter-connected caves. The herd consisted of Soquili that were beautifully coloured in some way. Living in the caves, being bright allowed them to stand out more against the darkness where they would dance, play games, and sing. There was always a time each day for members to state when something good happened such as the birth of a new set of foals or a confession of love between two or more. It was a happy place, at least she always thought so. Her mother had raised her and her siblings here, but, they weren't born here. Rather, they came here when she and her siblings were quite young. She could not remember the times before the herd, or perhaps it was a good thing she could not remember.
Growing up in the caves, they were not the warmest places to be. It was reassuring then, to be blessed with a large fluffy tail that she could curl with beside her family. It was equally kind when one of the Journeyers (ones that left the caves for a brief period of time) gave her a wrapping that glistened with shiny dots. She hardly knew what those shiny dots were, but, the Journeyer had told her they were called "stars". These "stars" supposedly watched over the land inhabitants during the night. It all sounded so amazing to her. Being quite young still, she only was allowed outside the caves during the day. Even then, that time was limited. Outside, the Elders said, many dangers awaited them. Only the bravest, most intelligent, or quickest Soquili could last outside their home for longer periods of time.
One day when playing hide and go seek, she slipped out past the entrance to the caves. She thought that the best hiding spot would be outside the caves and she wanted to be the last found Soquili. She walked for awhile before she laid down behind a set of bushes. She waited. She did not know how long she hid for before the ground below her shook. She shot up quickly to her paws, trembling in fear. As the ground continued to shake, she became unbalanced and fell back to the ground. "Help me, please." Her voice was too soft, it was always too soft. Her claws dug into the earth, her body trembling still. Was this one of the dangers the Elders spoke of? The desire to win had overpowered her so much that the rational choice of staying in the cave had lost. Why had she left? Why? Was this her time?
Although new life within the herd was a grand blessing, death was not a sad affair within the herd. No, that Soquili's life was discussed in great detail with many stories shared among the herd members that knew that Soquili best. Also, the Elders spoke highly of death. Everyone was to die someday, but, the Elders stated that they would all be reborn one day. Death was just a time for a longer slumber, for many beautiful dreams to occur before their souls could come back to the land of the living. Supposedly the kinder you were in one life, the Gods would bless you with an even grander life when you were born again. She believed the Elders' stories. Everyone in the herd seemed to.
The ground stopped shaking. She sobbed in relief. She was alive. She was unscathed. She could go home. She took off quickly in the direction of the caves. She reached her home and froze. The entrance was changed. There was no entrance anymore. Instead, a pile of rocks was there. She could not reach her home and her family could not reach her. She only knew of the one entrance. Regardless of that fact, she still chose to run around the area of her home to search for another way to get in. She found nothing. Her family, friends, and the other members of the herd were trapped inside. She tried to remember if anyone else was out with her at the time, but, no one came to mind. By this point, her whole body was shaking and she was crying. "Mama. Brother. Sisters." She choked out. If she could not get in, how could they get out?
She found herself back at the entrance of the main cave. She attempted to move the rocks with her paws, but, they would not budge. She was not strong enough. Not knowing what else to do, she laid down near the entrance. "Be calm. They are fine. They have to be...." She tried to take deep breaths and murmur reassuring things to herself; those were all suggestions her mama gave her and her siblings when they were upset. It was so difficult though, even when she did those things her mama was close by for another choice of comfort. Now, she was on her own. All she had to remind her of her family was the blue flowers they had given her. She stayed until she became too thirsty. She did not want to leave, but, she knew she would die if she did not drink water or eat. As she walked away from her home, a thought came to her. She should find Soquili to help her. Renewed with hope, she went to look for others in addition to her search for water and food. In the distance she could hear running water. She walked towards it until she saw it through a clearing. Besides water, a mare with her two foals was present too. Her heart pounded. She was nervous. She never spoke to anyone outside the herd before. She had to though, for her family and the herd. "May I ask for your help? Please?" Her voice cracked.
The family all turned towards her. As she stepped forward, the family stepped back. Why did they step back from her? "Get your father....." The mare told her foals hurriedly. "....and then hide." Hide? Why did the mare ask her foals to hide? Was there danger nearby? "I..." She started to ask for help again when she was interrupted. "Stay back." The mare called out to her. She stopped, uncertain now. "My family, my herd, they are stuck. Please help. I need help." She was on the verge of crying again. Why was the mare not listening? She was not saying anything. "Darling." A new voice called out. One stallion appeared and then two others behind him. She looked hopefully at them. She was again startled at their upset faces. "Demon, leave. Or we shall force you to leave." Demon? Why would they say that to her? Their voices frightened her. She noticed them stepping forward towards her and she ran off. As she ran, she could her their voices ringing through her mind. Demon. Demon. Demon. Was she a demon? She couldn't be, right? Their words had hurt her deeply and left her feeling uncertain. What was she going to do now? Was there anyone out there in the lands that would help her?
Posted: Fri Oct 09, 2015 8:52 pm
Follow the Trail...
Username(s): SwordOfTheDarkOnes
Entry: Name: Etheria Temper: Thoughtful
The mare sits there sipping at a dark cup of something that’s steaming….yet glowing with a faint eerie light. She is calm as most avoid her, fiery eyes slowly rise and you know she’s looking directly at you. She tilts her head gently, a soft nod to the pile of cushions she somehow has around her. She herself seems content using her own tail and flowing sash to act apart of her cushions. As you watch her you feel drawn to her, something about her stance is...sad in a way. Like she just wants someone to talk to. You go to her asking if she would like some company.
Her entire body seems to lift in contained joy as she nods. “Yess, pleasse.” the slight strain on her “s” gives you the impression of a accent of sorts. You sit with her, smiling as she pours you a cup of tea. As the two of you bask in silence. Not stifling..just there. You work up the nerve to ask for her story. She seems surprised...then smiles as she starts her tale.
“My Mother wasss a beauty among her herd. My markingss and rossess are from her. Sshe gave me the flowerss once I decided to leave the herd…” she paused for a moment as if trying to think on the next line. “My Father...the ssstory variess. From my Mother’ss sstandpoint it sseemss that my Father was her ssavoir from another, more forceful sstallion. From my Father himsself. He merely sstumbled upon the other sstallion making a fool of himsself. Either way, my Mother wisshed to repay him for the kindness and…” she blinked. The etheral light that was her eyes vanished for a moment. “I’m told it wassn’t a misstake...but I have my doubtsss. Ssoon after that night, my parentsss parted wayss. Mother found ssshe was heavy with me, Father never knew about me till he chanced upon Mother and I when I was a mere filly. It iss from my Father I have the light within me...and my...other traitsss.”
She sips at her tea, listening as you ask further questions. Was she on good terms with her Father now? Did her parents stay together? Was she in a herd now?
She shook her head. “Ssadly, my parentss for all that they love me...couldn’t find love for one another. I vissit Mother ever sso often...Father, I travel with. He hass no herd, doessn’t want one. For now, I find traveling with him is besst. He...watchess over me, for I lack that sstrength.” she smiles, shockingly it looks rather gentle on her...must of been the soft pink accent to a few of her markings. “I adore my Father. He tellss me thingss he thinkss help. Itss endearing. Asss for Mother, itss...odd. I feel asss if she grew disstant from me sssince I left. Nothing I can do about it. I believe I sssaid thisss before. Father doessn’t have a herd, therefore I don’t...but…”
She smiled again. It was a pretty sight on her by this point. “I would like to find one which acceptsss me…” the two of you keep a small conversation then. Drifting from her past to other things.
Entry: Amaryllis could be called many things – nightmare, curse, evil, or even darkness itself. If you were to ask her though she would say nothing. She has not opened her mouth to speak since the day her life turned into a nightmare. Her once intense silver eyes were burned away by the very flames that take residence. She used to be a normal mare, beautiful and with a loving mate. In her mind she believed the two of them to be destined together, soul mates.
Amaryllis and Nerium wanted a family and had been trying for what seemed eternity. Ama didn’t want to disappoint her mate any more. She blindly trusted in others and had no reason not to until the night of the strange moon. It was blood red in color and she almost thought it would drip blood if she stared at it long enough.
She thought the answer to her problem had been found in an all too eager gray colored mare. She wanted help to have a child with Nerium. The mare told Amaryllis where and when to find her in order to get the aid she could provide. She had no reason to doubt the mysterious mare and so she believed every word she told her without question.
The night of the weird moon arrived and she set out while Nerium was sleeping. The mare told her to look for weird marks on the trees in the woods and to follow the trail. Ama did as she was told but was startled when the mare came out of almost nowhere. It was as if she came from the very shadows that were being cast by the dark moon.
Before Amaryllis could even ask about the aid she was going to give her, she found herself in a strange situation. An odd blue rose wreath was being slipped over her head and around her neck before she could even pull away. The flowers seemed to have some sort of glow about them as the smell filled her nose. The smell of the roses were new to her, it was unlike any flower she knew. She couldn’t pull her gaze away from the strange flowers to ask the mare about them.
She couldn’t focus on anything but the color, the feeling she got while she looked at the flowers and the smell they gave off. As the smell of the flowers intensified, a strange chant seemed to fill the area around her. It grew louder and louder until the smell made her sneeze and then it just stopped. She slowly blinked and then looked around, confused and somewhat lost. The mare was no longer here.
She opened her mouth to call out but quickly shut it when a burning sensation crawled up her throat to rest in her mouth. After a few seconds passed she tried again but was met with an even more intense burning. She clamped her mouth shut and decided the best course of action she could take would be to go back to Nerium.
After waking him up, she couldn’t hold back her fear anymore, she started to cry and whimper. He greeted her with his loving gaze and it just broke her heart. She had no idea what was happening to her and worse she had no idea how he would treat her. Her mouth opened so she could try and explain what happened but all that came out were flames and smoke. She cried out in agony and despair. Her claws flexed into the soil with panic and frustration.
Nerium leapt away from her to avoid getting hurt unsure of what was taking place. He watched her cry out and his heart ached for her. He had no idea how to help her or even take her pain away. It only got worse for her and him as well because he was helpless. He watched as she suffered while something spread through her. Nerium hated the pain and sadness he saw in her silver eyes but he loved her all the same. He noticed that the pain was getting worse by the mark she was leaving in the soil by her claws. Her eye sight was being burned away. The cries that were coming from her made him look away from her feet and back to her beautiful face that displayed so much pain.
“Oh baby I wish I knew how to help you.” He was just heart broken, he was feeling like he failed her.
Her cries of pain and sadness continued through the night until she finally either fell asleep or passed out, he wasn’t sure. While she slept, he wrapped his long, warm black scarf around her for comfort. He gently nuzzled her, not to wake her but for his own piece of mind.
“You are still my lovely flower.” He whispered the words against her ear and then laid down beside her, his head resting against her.
Amaryllis woke up with the sun warming her skin and something heavy laying against her. She wanted to panic because she couldn’t see who or what it was against her. Nerium felt Amaryllis stir and whispered to her.
“Relax, you don’t have to be afraid, it’s only me. I won’t let anything or anyone hurt you again.” He truly felt defeated and like he let her down. He was supposed to be there to protect her but he had no idea she had even left.
Amaryllis relaxed and laid her head back down. “Ama my sweet flower, I have no idea what happened but I gave you my scarf to try and give you some comfort. Don’t lose hope my love, it will be okay. We will try and find a way to fix this.” He nuzzled her softly as he spoke his words, he meant it. He hated to see her suffer, he hated not being able to see her loving silver eyes and even worse not even be able to hear her caring voice. He was mad at himself and at whoever did this for taking advantage of her. “I promise we’ll figure something out, I’m still here and I’m not leaving. I love you Amaryllis.” He gently nipped at her ear and then relaxed against her as he tried to think of what they could possibly do, where they could even go from here.
Posted: Sat Oct 10, 2015 4:53 am
Follow the Trail...
Username(s): Jackariah Beckett
Entry:
Name: Faassenii "Catmint"
Nickname: The only person who calls her anything besides her full name is the old medicine woman. And she calls her Catmint, or Sweet mint.
Meaning: Faassenii is the latin name for the plant Catmint. It is an herb sometimes used in tea. Drinking tea with catmint may assist in the following- Settling the stomach, soothing hyperactive children, bedwetting, reduce fevers, calming, headaches, rheumatism, arthritis ((http://bristen.com/teasChart.htm)). I liked the cat part, it sounded unique, and I liked the calming of children tie in.
Temper: Storyteller
History: Faassenni doesn't remember where she came from. But she wasn't born in her village. The story the old medicine woman would always tell her is that she called upon the aurora to send a messenger and protector to show her village that the aurora is not evil. The story is that she performed a ritual to the aurora and a foal crawled out of the fire to answer her prayer for someone to guide and protect them. A foal with dancing fire within her and the mark of the aurora on her pelt. The medicine woman would always end the story by telling her she had been that foal. And for all she knew, it was true. The first thing she remembers was being covered in scorch marks and hearing the old medicine woman chanting up to the lights above.
Faassenii grew up scared of the villagers she lived with. Her only solitude of peace being the old woman. The villagers would often scowl at her and claim she had evil in her. Not because of her paws, but because she is touched by the aurora. To them, the aurora was the sign of evil. As soon as the medicine woman would come near they would shush but still send glares to Faassenii. They did everything she told them, including let this foal into their lives, but they didn't have to like it. The old woman was convinced the aurora was not evil, but instead a storyteller. With her influence, Faassenii learned to tell stories through dance and the use of props. She would dance for the children and foals as the woman would tell elaborate stories that matched her choreography. Stories of their people and their legends.
When Faassenii was almost an adult, the old medicine woman became sick. Because of her belief, the woman had always refused to teal healing and herbs to Faassenii. She always told the young foal that wasn't her path and to focus on the path she was born to. Because of this, Faassenii felt utterly helpless as she watched her mentor and friend wither away before her eyes. Also the prospect of what the villagers would do once the old woman wasn't around to protect her any more. Standing up and defending herself had not been one of her frequent lessons.
Her fears became reality the night the old woman finally succumbed to death. The villagers blamed Faassenii for the sickness she had brought to their medicine woman. They claimed she also tainted the children with lies and false realities. They had no qualms chasing the young mare from their village, cheering if a rock landed as they flew at her.
Currently: Faassenii wanders the forest, searching for someone to tell her stories and her dance to. Some days closer to insanity than a being ever should be. When she finds someone, they often run away before she even gets a chance to dance. Because of her excitement she can't help but charge or pounce on them. And the other times, others are afraid of her looks.
During her time after the death, she will have a hard time distinguishing between her past, the stories, and reality. The longer she doesn't perform, the more jumbled the stories get. As long as she has someone to perform for and converse with, she remains moderately sane, depending of what story is in her at the time.
Personality: Faassenii was always told to let the story flow through her and to let the story control her. Because of this, even when she is not being a part of a sto4y, her personality is ever changing. The only thing that is constant is her inability to do harm to a living thing. She can yell and be fierce and come centameters from actually doing harm, but she can't bring herself to follow through.
Possible rp plots: ~1. After regaining her sanity, I would like Catmint to find someone to teach her basic herbal healing. That way when someone is in pain again, she won't feel so helpless. ~2. I would like her to meet something menacing as a foal. Something the old woman can easily save her from, but dangerous enough that she finally understands that she needs to learn difference between friend and foe. Especially with her eye sight. Possibly meeting a bear protecting some cubs.
Other Information: ~ How Faassenii sees the world. Fassenii only sees whisps of outlines in whites, grays, and blacks. She does not see color. Due to only seeing outlines, she is very good at seeing movement. But only when there is enough light. This is why she often would never leave the old medicine woman's area. At night, the woman would keep a fire burning so Faassenii could see where she was going. Faassenii will rarely move from a place she knows to be safe if it is night time.
~ Stories through aurora's. The old medicine woman grew up in a village that believed aurora's told stories of the past and of their people's legends. When she was a young girl she was kidnapped and brought to her currant village as a slave. Everyone called her a fool for being so naive and misguided. It wasn't till the woman was a midwife healer and a sickness broke out in the village that the village came to respect her. With the woman's healing, she was able to save 60% of the people who had gotten sick. Since then, the village has listened to the advice she had to give, only silently refuting her beliefs in the auroras. ((Also, I really really love that song >3>.))
~ Faassenii uses her scarf during her dances. And her roses she wears in honor of the woman who raised her. The old medicine woman once told her roses might soften her image. So since then, she has always had a rose close by.
Roleplay
((I will be using Naxxramus in this rp, the poor guy.))
Faassenii sulked as she walked through the forest. It was a bright sunny day, a perfect spring day by any means. But it had been nearly a week since she had managed to dance for anyone. She didn't even think that woodpecker got the moral of the story either. She needed someone who would appreciate her storytelling. The look on their face as they stared at her in wonder. Plus, she needed practice reciting along with her dance. She still wasn't used to being the one to dance and recite the story.
A broken branch flipped her ears to the wind as she froze. Could it be? Someone to dance for? She slinked forward as peered through the shrubbery. It was! A small little funny horse with long ears. He must have been running, for the little thing was wheezing and staring at a frog sitting on a log. Faasseni's head tilted in curiosity as the frog croaked and the mini was able to slow his breathing. But only for a moment.
What was she waiting for? She needed to take this chance now before he ran away like the others. Pouncing out from her hiding place, she tackled the mini to the ground. Before she could even tell him to wait, he shrieked loudly and fainted where he lay. Curious little stallion, she thought to herself. Didn't he know it could be dangerous out here? Now she definitely knew he could use one of her morals from her dance. After pondering this for a moment, she realized the furious croaking and chirping coming from the small frog that now jumped up and down on top of him.
Faassenii paused, trying to think of what it was doing. "I'm sorry, but I don't understand any thing you are saying...." She looked down at the mini beneath the frog. "Hey, don't you know its dangerous out here? Your friend should be more careful where he naps. He could even get a sunburn here. And I am no expert in salves, so you would have to do that on your own."
The frog only persisted in croaking what she imagined was an angrier tone. "Look, if you aren't going to help me wake him up, I'll have to take my dances elsewhere. I've no time to waste with stallions who can't even take the time to learn a nice lesson through dance."
And with that, she left the frog to try and wake his poor friend up. She would have offered the frog a dance, but he didn't seem in the mood to learn. She had no time for critiques. She had seen a river back a ways. Maybe there would be someone to watch her there. So off she went, talking to herself the whole way. Quite happy to have the company.
Entry: Not all of my kin look as I do. Many do not carry the colorful adornments that mark my ask. Talk to the Plain Coats of the herd and you will get divided responses. Some are jealous of my markings, wishing that they had them so that they could be what I am. Others are quite happy to be so normal...so plain, because it means they do not need to carry such a heavy burden. Some days I agree with the latter group.
Why am I so special? Let me tell you. Among my kind we believe that those marked, such as myself, have a deep connection to death and the stars. It is said that long ago a single stallion was born with colorful markings and that he could commune with the dead through the stars. He was revered among the herd for his powers and any foal born with similar markings was sent to him for training. For generations this practice has continued with my kin. The Plain Coats know nothing of what occurs during this training, as only the Painted Ones are allowed in the secret training area.
The training takes many years, and not all of the Painted Ones are successful. Those who are not...well, I'd honestly rather not talk about their fates. I was one of the lucky one, if I can call what has happened to me luck, for I passed the training. Now I was not just a Painted One, for I had ascended to the rank of Star Talker. To show my rank, and as an object to channel my powers, I was gifted with a sash made of stars. In truth, there are no true stars in the sash, the material simply resembles the nights sky.
My true test was ahead of me. Training was only the beginning. Now I was to leave the herd and bring my skills to those who needed it. For you see, there will always be individuals looking for answers in some way. They will to know about a loved one who has passed, if they forgive them for a mistake made. There are also those that wish to know their future, they want to know who their mate will be, how many children they will have or how good their life will be. As a Star Talker it is my duty to relay this information to them, information that can be gleaned from the stars. Everyone can see the stars, but only a select few can read them, listen to their voices and pass that on to others.
This information does not come free. Those individuals who seek me out, or find me randomly, must first appease the stars. To appease the stars they must give gifts. These gifts in turn go to me, for I am the stars only way of communicating with the others. Gifts differ greatly depending on the individual, but the greater the gift, the more talkative the stars can become.
Once the gift is received, and accepted by the stars, my work can truly begin. I lay the gift on the sash of stars, then I lift my gaze upward, taking in those distance points of lights and letting their essence flow into me, allowing them to tell me what they wish to say. There are times when an incantation my be said to help translate the individuals request to the stars. This process can take time, depending on the depth of the request. Once I have been blessed by the stars answers, I will then relay that information to the individual. There are times when they do not wish to hear what the stars say, for not everything in life is good and happy. But often times they are satisfied and go about their lives, for now they have something to look forward to or an old conflict has been resolved.
If only they knew the truth. That what I do is nothing but a shame. I cannot truly talk to the stars. My training was not about learning a connection to them, it was about learning how to con individuals out of information and possessions. It is quite easy to persuade them to give me most of the information they are seeking when I first meet them. More so, futures as not set in stone, something I make sure to mention to them - even the stars cannot see everything. Destiny is a fickle thing, you can feel destined to do something, even be told that you are destined for a certain path, but it is up to that individual to pursue that path to truly follow it. So the stars may tell them they will become a knight, or find the perfect mate, or that they will conquer their fears, but only they themselves can do that. I merely give them suggestions, tell them what they want to hear and get rewarded for it. I have amassed quite the collection of trinkets in my time here, but this life weights heavily upon me. I must return home soon, to renew my training and share with my kin the bounty of my work. But perhaps, there is another path for me, something that is less a burden. I should consult the stars on this...
Yes, I know, there is some irony in that. But perhaps, just this once, I will see something real in the night sky and follow where it leads.
Posted: Sat Oct 10, 2015 12:22 pm
Follow the Trail...
Username(s): Lady Aria Starstone
Entry: Pony Name: Itzel - The Mayan Rainbow Goddess's name Personality: Hopeful, but tentative around others, she does not believe that others will accept her, for she was rejected by her own family. Her heart is good, but she is, nonetheless, afraid.
Standing alone, she watches. She watches everyone, everything. This tea carnival, it fascinated her... She had come because she had caught the scent of something that reminded her of... well of her. That scent of tea, she rarely smelled it in places she had not yet been, so to smell it on the wind, in a direction she had never gone? It fascinated her, and led her to seek what caused this scent. When she had arrived, she had found a tree covered hill to stand on, that overlooked the event, so that she might observe. As she stood, her tail lashed, betraying her intense interest and curiosity. She had never seen such an assemblage, nor smelled so many varieties of tea scents.
After a long period of just staring, curiously, she decided it was... worth her time to study this event, these soquili, to try to understand what it was they were doing here. It was just not something she knew. Why would anyone gather in such large groups? Would they not risk setting fire to things, or being mocked for being different? That had been her experience of being around others, when she was young... She found a rocky spot on 'her' hill, and settled to watch, her glowing eyes visible to those who might look up. She was not worried they would come seek her out... Few ever did, for most found her... terrifying. She did not, truly, know why. Was she not just another Soquili? What could be so scary about her? But it was how those she had met, had grown up around, had treated her...
Watching the event below, she found herself being reminded of her past by the various things she saw. Watching a pair of Soquili bargain together over a tea set, she found herself thinking of the times she had tried, in vain, to trade with others for things she needed or wanted... as they fled because she scared them. Seeing a mother gently chastising her child for begging for candy, she was lost in a memory of her own mother... Who had never chastised her gently. Indeed, this memory caught her up, for a long moment. "Itzel, what have you done, you little monster? ONCE again you have destroyed what I work on!" Her mother roared the words at her, as Itzel cowered against the rock walls of the cave her mother had her reside in. "I am sorry, Mother, I was just trying to help... I saw you were putting pretty flowers together, and... wanted to give you one of mine! I did not know it would burn the others, I am sorry!" The little mare was crying... burning tears dripping down her face, as her mother towered over her, furious and implacable. She always destroyed things, it was why she was not permitted to live with the rest of the family, after all. "You little aberration, I should never have had you. A freak and a fool, you destroy all you touch! What next? Will you burn your sister? Set fire to your brother? Destroy the woods we depend on to live? Don't leave this cave again, unless I grant you permission, monster child!" Her mother had always treated her as a monster, for she was not like the rest of the family... A true mutation, born to parents who did not understand how she came to be. Itzel shook her head, trying to shake off the painful memory that had caught her up. By the time it had cleared, the mother and child she had been watching were gone. She sighed, wistfully, for she had no happy memories of her parents, and few of her siblings.
After more time observing, she made a decision, and heaved herself to her feet. These ponies, below, all seemed so interesting... and so accepting of each other. There were so many different kinds, and yet they all seemed willing to accept one another. It was time... Time for her to try again, to see if there was, perhaps, a place for her amongst her kindred. Her eyes were filled with hope, as she slowly padded her way down the hill.
Entry: A scent of roses on the wind, and the smell of sulfur shortly afterward. These scents herald my arrival. I am not sure why I am here, or what I am, but I know this was not always how I was. I used to have the most beautiful citrus yellow eyes, and a smile so bright that I could stop any Stallion in his tracks. Now I am nothing but a monster with fire for a smile and coals for eyes... But hear me please, I am no monster and I do not intend you harm. I ask only to be a part of your festive activities. Even if only for a night, give me a chance to be one of you... Just one more time. I was the leader of a herd of pawed Soquili of all shapes and sizes. We took in anyone who felt they were freakish but wished only for a home to live and not be judged. I should have been more careful, should have watched closer. The day SHE came to the herd was the day everything changed. She refused to give her name and we all assumed it was due to the depression written cleanly on her face, but that was just an act. She asked just to be called Fox because her markings and colors resembled one. All seemed okay for a few weeks, Fox just blended into the background. Never caused any trouble, and never stood out. Some took to calling her the wallflower as a joke but each time she heard the word, the grimace on her face would increase and the look in her eyes grew from depression to anger.
One day Fox snapped and accosted the herd. With a power no one could have expected from such a slim creature she tore the herd apart. In no time it was down to just me and her. We squared off and the fight was intense. Time and again we clashed, wounds opening wetly in both of our hides but my teeth were sharper, my claws faster. Eventually she went down on one knee but before I had the chance to rip her throat out she reached her head back into a small pouch hanging from her shoulder and grabbed a mouthful of powder. She spit in my face... Her blood, spit, and the powder mixing together to create an effect I never would have expected. My body halted all action and my mind blanked. I could no longer move of my own volition. A wicked smile on her face Fox rose and commanded me to dance. I never knew how to dance but I shuffled my limbs and dipped my head. She then said, "Stop, now go over to that tree and fetch me three apples that have less than 2 worms each." The wicked gleam in her eyes was enough to go by but I had yet to understand. I went to fetch her apples. She had full control over my body and mind. I was little more than a slave to this wicked Fox. She kept me like this for a long time. Choosing to experiment on me, toy with me. It was like I was a insect held by a child, slowly having its legs pulled off. My herd was dead and gone and I was a slave... My life went by in a blur from this point. I remembered nothing more than the sight of my dead friends and family. One day Fox came across a witch in a swamp and learned of an experiment to turn me into the embodiment of fire and brimstone. Fox was fascinated by this project and undertook it immediately. It did take her a good amount of time to collect the ingredients. During her time in getting the supplies she became very thin and haggard looking but she was obsessed. She would not stop until she had the chance to perform this ritual. Finally, months after meeting the witch she called my obedient body to the ritual circle. The scales of an Ulun'Suti created the circle, the blood of a Unicorn lit by fire sat around the circle in bowls, and the ground bone marrow of a Skinwalker spread in unique curving patterns inside the circle. I was bid to step into the circle so I did. With the aid of her raccoon slave, that she took much in the same way as I, tied my mouth shut with ropes and bound my paws together so if I ran it wouldn't be far. Not that I would. My mistress bid this so I listened. With a smile that was barely shy of evil she began the chant, her voice rising and falling in pitch. A pressure began to build in the area surrounding the ritual circle and the wind started to howl violently. Finally the time came. Her raccoon slave pulled off the muzzle and she had it place a foul tasting powder in my mouth. I wanted so badly to spit it in her face but I restrained myself. The ritual ended and the leaf in my mouth caught fire. It burned so terribly but try as I might I could not spit it out. My bound legs tripped me and I went down hard, biting my tongue and lips in the process. That was all it took, my blood mixed with the fiery leaf was the final step. The fire spread, overtaking my mouth, burning my tongue. The flames crept up the side of my face where some blood splashed and eventually took my eyes too. I was blind and mute and would never see again. In my haze of pain and suffering I slipped one foot free of the bindings and regained my footing. My sense of smell and sound all that guided me now. I could smell her, the b***h... She was near me, her thick scent swirling around me. I lashed out and my teeth, still aflame, bit into soft flesh. Some god must have been looking out for me. With a pull I tore out her throat and that was the end of it. Her powders and trickery were gone, but the ritual kept my mouth aflame. I was fire incarnate now. I tore at the ropes tying my back feet together and once free walked into the forest. My mind finally my own but my eyesight gone forever.
Since that time I have wandered around. I did find some lovely smelling flowers that I hung around my neck, and a scarf stolen from some village or the other, though other than that I have had very little contact with others. Most consider my appearance that of a monster and run before I can try to communicate.
Now at this gathering of all things Tea I have come to try to find someone who can overlook my appearance and maybe have a night where I can just sit and talk without the acrid scent of fear tainting the air.
So please give me a chance to show you, that I am not a monster. In the morning I will be gone and you won't likely remember me.
Posted: Sat Oct 10, 2015 1:02 pm
Follow the Trail...
Username(s): Regal Renegade
Entry:
The elder stood before the dying embers of what once was likely a roaring flame, his eyes fixed on the cold blue star overhead. Around him the soft, rhythmic pounding of hooves mingled with the whine of his voice as he sang to the sky. He sang of The Forgotten, of lore and traditions that had been nonchalantly discarded by the greater populous. He sang of the pain felt due to their loss, and the sorrow they felt at being nothing more than the faint memories of a select few. He sang of the anger and bitterness of The Forgotten, and cried out against their banishment into nothingness. The great spirits had been betrayed by the forgetfulness of the careless, and now he called forth a vengeful spirit of justice to set right the wrongs.
This ritual carried on for days, long after the star had vanished from the sky. Each morning the elder would paint himself with the ash of the extinguished flame, and each night he would rekindle it. The beat of his comrades did not cease, they would not give into exhaustion, not even if it would cost them their lives. This mission was far too important to them, for The Forgotten should be forgotten no more. The elder sang until his voice became broken and long after, driven by the desire to rain punishment down upon the heads of the forgetful. His single-mindedness feeding into the words he sang.
She had no name and no memory from where she had come, she was an empty vessel moving like a puppet on a string. Her burning gaze was hollow and her voice turned to ash by the flame that had consumed her tongue. Her coat was the black of night, and her claws dulled from her endless journey. Nothing touched her senses, not the singing of birds nestled in the trees, or the scent of decay given off by fallen leaves. She had been consumed by the nothing. She felt nothing, saw nothing, heard nothing and felt nothing. It was almost as though she did not even exist.
Night once again fell over the elder and his comrades, painting them in eerie shadows cast by the embers. A few lay dead from the endless exertion combined with the lack of basic needs such as food, sleep and water. Even the elder’s pallor had become nearly as pale as the ash with which he was painted, but he would not give up. He would use all of his strength to summon the spirit of The Forgotten.
Darkness had no meaning to her for she already lived in it, but something finally seemed to pierce her awareness. Something caused her mind to stir and her body to react, the sound of a broken voice calling out mournfully and the pounding of what seemed like drums. Without thought she angled her ambling toward this calling, drawn by the bitterness and sorrow of the song.
Two burning eyes and a flaming maw appeared in the smoke before the elder. His heart raced as the mare emerged from what he deemed to be the spirit world. His song stopped, leaving the air around him in silence for the first time in days. She lumbered forth without a word and came to a stop before him, her eyes unseeing and her senses dulled but present. The spirit of The Forgotten had come, his pleading had worked and now he had his tool for vengeance and justice.
She remained unaware as the others encroached upon her, placing a mantle upon her shoulders as well as sweet smelling flowers. She stood like a stone as the weak Soquili around her painted her pelt with the opalescent dust of crushed crystals, unaware of the alteration in her appearance. She was an empty vessel devoid of purpose and life, but her awareness was once again drawn from its solitude as an enormous male stood before her and stroked her cheek gently.
His spirit had come and now she wore the markings and faces of the forgotten, she would be their protector and their avenger. All exhaustion lifted from his shoulders as he stared at her. “You are The Forgotten.” His voice rasped. “You will punish those who cast you aside, and you will protect the memory of those that have been lost. My beautiful spirit of vengeance and justice.” Falling before her he bowed, his nose pressed to the ground as he did so. “You will make them pay for their ignorance.” He whispered into the grass.
His words touched a place within her that she did not know existed. It was like a drop of water had fallen on a quiet puddle, causing its surface to become disrupted with ripples. She began to see, began to hear, and began to feel. Bitterness filled the emptiness, accompanied by rage and hatred. The vessel had become filled, it had been given a purpose. Her fiery maw opened and out came something more like a breath than a voice. “We are The Forgotten.”
That was the beginning. For the longest time it seemed like there was nothing but storms. Thunderstorms, rain storms, you name it. There was no end in sight and the clouds never cleared. While the days were grey and dreary, they were also always wet, even when the rain wasn't falling there was a mist hanging in the trees and shrubbery and that suited the environment just fine. The forest that seemed to blanket most of the region that wasn't directly attached to the plains was plush, fertile, and green. The trees stood tall and strong, some, taller than the eye could see. The shrubs were healthy, thick and they blanketed the lush soil for miles. Animals moved calmly through the underbrush, some gathering food while others stopped to eat or leave their mark for the creatures that would eventually follow.
A large herd of deer consisting mostly of does with one or two young males crossed an opening in the shrubbery at the heels of a great white beast, his antler rack so wide that it barely fit between the occasional cluster of trees. His fur was thick and plush, ready for winter, and his blue eyes showed brightly in the early rays of morning beneath the rising sun.
He followed a familiar path that years of trekking these same paths had ingrained in his DNA and the does and young bucks of his herd followed complacently, as was their lot in life. He had sired many sons, but none had inherited his size, color or sheer magnificence; however, this rutting season had brought a surprising joy to the new herd, and as he paused in the pathway, he lowered his head to nuzzle the tiny, white, blue eyed fawn that stepped out of the brush to tremble beneath her father's body.
A crack in the sky above them as lightening flashed abruptly, the sky opening without warning sent the herd fleeing into the thicket.
There had been no scent of a storm on the wind, it had come suddenly and without rhyme or reason, but there, in the wake of the fleeing herd, lay the blue eyed doe, all but trampled in the startled rush of her family and as she peered out from where she lay, she made a small, feeble, plaintive sound; but there was no one there to hear her; no one but the child that had been left in the wake of the unnatural , unexpected storm, her tawny skin and bright silver eyes wide as she gazed at the fawn that was no bigger than her own small frame. The toddler, no more than two or three, crawled across the wet dirt to the shaking fawn that was too afraid, to exhausted and uncertain to rise.
It was there in those very shrubs that the child and the fawn were discovered almost nine hours later, hungry, cold, and soaked to the bones.
That was the night I was found, it was October 31st, the night many cultures choose to celebrate their dead and most things supernatural. I was taken in by the Kawani tribe that night, they told me when I was older that they followed the Dancing Spirits to where I was hidden, for the lights of the ancesters were brightest over that place.
That Fawn and I grew up among them; they were my people. My family. I learned their ways, and in time, I became a woman. When the day came for me to set out on my journey to discover myself, I did so alone and with eager anticipation; wondering what the ancestors might guide me to. I never could have guessed; not in my wildest dreams.
That night, I saw something I will never forget, and to this day, the image is burned fresh in my mind. There is a creature that walks this earth that should not exist, and it's origins, it's dwelling place, to this day, are unknown.
The night was darker than many that had passed in a long time, unseasonably chilly too. It was not unlike the night I was found by my people... There were shadows at every turn, blackened silk amongst the trees that seemed to tremble and sway with a dancing, murderous intent while the wind blew mercilessly, howling with unadulterated screams. The clouds gathered above, shrouding all things good, all things considered light in the world in a deep, paralyzing blanket of impermeable darkness.
The moon was unseen that night, due to cloaking of the black and grey clouds that coated the sky in thick, heavy blankets. On the night of the second full moon of that October, the Blue Hunters Moon, the sky was as dark as ever. A storm was rolling in quickly, the black blue of the sky long since disappeared behind the mask of swirling, roiling thunderheads.
They began to spread out, extending like a spilled drink, tossing and pushing together in the wind that was growing steadily stronger. The vicious shadows of the night grew, forms taking shape, growing taller and wider, limbs stretching from them to fall across surfaces everywhere, pointing accusingly at an unseen suspect.
Suddenly, through the sky a bright bolt of grand proportions with widespread electricity sparked, silver webs branching out like fingers to tenderly embrace the night sky. Dark, water filled clouds became illuminated with violet laced blue neon lights, the forest scene below illuminated just briefly, then, a deep, foreboding sound rolled across that stormy sky, like the growl of a beast, it warned against something still to come, something that would change the worlds of two beings forever.
The lightning flash had been so fiercely bright that it seared the image into my eyes so that when I closed my eyes, the vision remained, arcing across my line of sight in a blue-black shadow that impaired my vision for a few moments.
Slowly, one drop after another the clouds began to weep, their entire beings falling from their wispy bonds, thundering down on the world below... like oceans, it fell in waves, crashing to the ground in a wet cacophony of sound. The scent of fresh rain mingling with wet earth rose to embrace the forest surrounding a small clearing. Trees had continued to sway, but bowed now before the gale force winds.
The rain fell in torrents, slamming downward, splattering the rocks covered in red, yellow and orange leaves from the trees that littered the deep, forested landscape. Small streams began to form, trickling weakly in direction of the wind, moving into what soon became a babbling brook as it started to flow at a downwards angle in a stony gully that had formed naturally over many years. Around me, all things natural were still, becoming completely motionless save for the trees that still shivered with the weight of the falling rain.
The Kawani forest was awash with flooding, what must have been overflow from the nearby river saturated the earth, and I sank up to my knees, but still I moved on. The wind chilled me to my bones and I could barely think. The roar of the gusts were deafening, and as I forced myself to continue on, the sound grew louder, then I realized it wasn't just the roar of the wind, but of the river. I had finally found it, and it was rushing hard and fast.
I turned and started to move upstream, alongside the quickly moving water. I had dreamed once, barely a moon ago, that the river would lead to That Place.
The Grove.
I got further up and in the distance, I could see the mountains looming and a foreign sense of familiarity that confused me settled into my bones. It was the most peculiar sensation; the feeling of coming home.
Abruptly, the rain ceased, though the wind blew on; the clouds above me clearing, and as the sky brightened, I saw it. The Blue Moon. The second moon of our October month. The Hunters Moon. Ripe, Bright, and swathed in lights that ranged in hues of sunset and dawn, broken by waves of twilight. Reds, Golds, Oranges, Violets, Blues, and even pale, limpid shades of green illuminated the night in dancing auras.
The Borealis. The Ancestors of the World, Human and animal alike, Dancing above my head, like they had the night I was found.
I was so focused on the lights that at first, I did not realize the ground was growing firmer, that the world around me was changing as I moved away from the river, no longer mindful of my path, but when I realized the roar had faded into silence, I broke my gaze from the sky and turned them to the forest surrounding me.
Around me, the earth was scorched, claw marks covered the trees and ash was left in dizzying trails. Plants were singed, edges of the leaves on the ground burned still with deep, bright embers. The area was hot, so much so, I felt the clothes on my body, cold and drenched, warming and beginning to dry.
Fireflies blinked in the shadows around me, and crickets sang out in the night as if nothing unusual had taken place where I now stood. A path led away from the insanity and I found my feet following, even while my mind quailed at the thoughts running through my head as to what could have caused it. My gut twisted and I ran, not away from the path, but down it. Everywhere I looked, shadows seemed to melt into different shapes. My eyes were blind to what was real and what was illusion. Perhaps the cold and wet had gotten to me, perhaps I was hallucinating, I wasn't sure. Surely I would have a fever by the end of this... Perhaps I already had.
A growl rolled in the dark and it ran right up my spine and the air seemed to vibrate with it. I stopped when the path disappeared suddenly. I turned my head and saw the flutter of something black, glittering like starlight, disappear into a cluster of trees and when I ran to investigate, there was nothing there but ash.
Every way I turned, I could not find the path again. Something had lured me deep into the heart of the forest; I could no longer hear the River, I could no longer see the Sky, or the Mountains. Cold, alone, and exhausted, I collapsed, and as I began to lose consciousness, the overwhelming scent of Teaflowers washed over me and I caught a glimpse of fire, floating there in the dark like candle flames, or torches, side by side, bouncing up and down in the dark like they were dancing.
Briefly the thought fluttered across my mind that I might die; irony in itself, on the night when the world revered the dead. I wondered if my body would be found, if I would be eaten, and as sleep overtook me, I felt for the shortest of breaths, blissful warmth.
Another two legger, lost and seeking... How long had she been playing this game? How many years had she been in this place? She couldn't remember. Not because it had been a long time, but because she had no concept of time passing.
She woke in these woods, many years ago, when she was smaller, and she had been alone. Around her neck were roses. She was uncertain as to what color they were; they never seemed to be the same color. At night they were blue, at dawn they were pink, during the day they were white, and at dusk, they were gold.
Days passed her by, over time, she grew. Always alone, unaware of the World outside of her home. Outside of the forest. Sometimes she woke in fits of panic from nightmares she couldn't remember, her body so hot, she thought surely all of her would be consumed in flames, then her vision would darken and she would lose herself, waking later surrounded by scorched eath, the trees scarred, her claws torn and violet from crimson blood painting their blue surface.
Sometimes she forgot that she existed; absent in her ways, passing through the forest, into the Glade so many seemed to seek. Sometimes there was rage, sometimes sorrow that was so sharp it tore from her the most unholy sound that bellowed and echoed through the mountains. Other times, there was nothing. No emotion, no light, so breath, no movement. Long, empty spaces of nothing, where she remembered nothing, but later surfaced from the dark covered in blood.
The scarf that wrapped around her form had swaddled her form when she was young. She did not know where it had come from, or how she had come to have it... truthfully, she did not even know that it was not a part of her. Years spent alone rendered her, in a way, impaired. She knew nothing of language, or understanding, nothing of the way of others.
She simply was.
Of course, she had been so young when she was abandoned... left behind by her parents, terrified of her very vissage and the unnatural heat that emanated from her. So much had happened that night. Her herd had been conten to simply end her life; to kill her and be done with it. Clearly she was a sign that something was angry with them. Surely she was a curse upon them. That was the only way to explain why they had been plagued with this tiny nightmare that set everything she touched ablaze with a fire so hot that the things it touched turned promptly to ash.
Her mother and father, terrified though they were of her, did not wish her dead. They dosed her with a brew made from teaflowers and other herbs to render her sleeping, then they took her from the herd lands, far, far from civilization, and they left her in the grove where none would find her. Then they fled.
She had barely been four moons old then, and her survival was a miracle in itself. In her first year, she had the curiosity one might expect from a foal. She ventured fearlessly, unaware that anything was missing. That she wasn't supposed to be alone. She investigated the world around her, and tried to make friends with the animals, but they wanted nothing to do with this creature that burned so hot, and so she was alone.
Over time, she forgot other creatures existed, unless a curious two legger seeking the grove came across her path. Sometimes she toyed with them and killed them... sometimes she left them to die... but there were a select few that she toyed with until exhaustion claimed them; upon which time she took them in her jaws and dragged them into the grove, leaving before they woke.
She lived solely on the blossoms of teaflowers and grass; the familiar taste of the flowers the only thing that she seemed to remember or recognize.
Perhaps it was her diet teaflowers, lavender, gardenia, mountain pansy and the ivy that covered most of the regions trees and moutain walls, which were common causes for exhaustion, delirium, fever and stupor.
My Inspirations:
There is a story called the Legend of the Blue Rose, a story which depicts a young commoner who undergoes many trials to prove his love for the princess of his kingdom so he might wed her and someday succeed the king as ruler.
The last trial that he must overcome, issued by the King, the Princess' father, is what seems like an impossible task. To go out into the royal garden, and by midnight, bring to the King, a blue rose. The young man searches tirelessly for something that does not occurr naturally until, exhausted and disheartened, grief and sleep overtake him. When he is woken that night, he sees the garden in new eyes, under the light of the full moon. As bright as the sky above, illuminated in glowing celestial reflection of the silver orb, every white rose in the Garden was blue.
The young man went and fetched the king and brought him to the garden, and there he reveals to him his discovery. The King is overjoyed by his cleverness and dedication, and the young man weds the Princess, and in time, becomes a strong, and wise leader, praised for his Fair and Just rule over the kingdom.
So too is there a story that is passed down along the generations of the Ojibwe tribe that tells how the wild roses got their thorns; given to them by Nanahboozhoo to protect them from the animals that once fed on their fragrant, spicy blooms.
It was said Nanahboozhoo was a strange sort, with power bestowed on him by the ancestors which gave him the power ti make himself as tall as a tree, or as small as a turtle. It is said he could not be killed, not by burning, or drowning, or piercing of arrow nor blade, and he was of very poor temper if he was displeased. It is also said he was the master of going unfound, for he could take the form of a man, or a beast...
It is also of keen interest to make note that the Ojibwe tribe, the same tribe who believed Nanahboozhoo gave roses thorns, also believed the Aurora Borealis was the reflection of Human Spirits dancing in the night sky... Then there is an Algonquin myth that tells of when Nanahbozho, creator of the Earth, had finished his task of the creation, he traveled to the north, where he remained. He built large fires, of which the northern lights are the reflections, to remind his people that he still thinks of them.
Blue roses traditionally signify mystery or attaining the impossible. According to a Chinese folktale, the blue rose signified hope against unattainable love.
On October 31, 1888, only 50 years after the trail of tears, there was a particularly stubbourn Prarie Fire. The fire was fought by many, though it raged on for some time, defiantly avoiding being extinguished, while managing that night, to claim a single human life. The human life was that of a woman.
Posted: Sat Oct 10, 2015 1:29 pm
Follow the Trail...
Username(s): AislingJuno Name: KEAHI Meaning: Means "the fire" from Hawaiian ke, a definite article, and ahi "fire". Temper: guardian Parents: Her Birth parents are unknown. KEAHI has memories of her parents perishing during a kalona herd attack for territory. Her adopted mother is Sumire
Entry: “Keahi run!” were they last words the young foal herd as her father perished from this world. Her birth herd had been unaware of dangers that would soon over whelm them. The first hint of danger came from her uncle the herd elder screaming out a battle cry. Her family paused in the middle of eating their morning meal. A plume of dust could be seen in the valley and her uncle’s scream of frustration rang out through the small valley. Distantly shapes could be made out through the dust, several herd members were fighting a group of young kalona stallions. Her father and mother watched the fighting then turned and looked at each other. Gazing at each other’s eyes they seemed to come to an unspoken decision. “Keahi, I know this is asking a lot of you but you need to be brave. No matter what you see or hear you are not to return to the valley alone. We will come and find you. Now I want you to head into the west woods. Your coat is mostly black and you can hide easily.” Her mother horridly whispered in her ear.
“Momma, “Keahi proclaimed her voice quivering in shock. Her legs seemed to be wobbly as her brain hurried to understand the situation. “Keahi run!” Her father said in a gruff voice while his body pushed against hers -to help her get into motion. Keahi’s wobbling legs furiously pumped against the ground. With each step she gained momentum and soon stood at the edges of the forest. She raced inside and waited for her parents. The forest seemed very especially silent as if even the birds knew to be quiet for danger was near. Keahi settled inside a hollow log and tried to keep her cries silent. Her little body started shaking from the shock. Keahi gazed at the sky out of a hole on the top of the log. As the sun traveled down into the horizon, her hopes of her family’s survival dimmed. As the rays of the sun went beyond the event horizon the forest seemed to change. Keahi crept out of her log intending to walk back to the valley to find out the fate of her family. However the forest was so dark and it was a night of a new moon. Without meaning to Keahi walked further into the forest… As time passed the forest became denser and denser with growth. Then it started to drizzle and the cold of the night bit at Keahi’s flanks. Damp, cold, lost and in a state of shock the young foal “Ahhh,” Keahi wailed in a scream of frustration at the world and at the spirits that allowed her herd to be attacked. Feeling the last bit of her energy give way Keahi Slumped onto the ground Keahi could feel her will to survive slowing start to fade.
As her eyes slowly started to fade she could groggily make out the shape of what appeared to be a firefly heading towards her direction. However the glowing shape seemed to become bigger as raced closer. Her eyes widened at the glowing shape hovered directly over her head. It was not a glowing bug instead a small beautiful flutter mare about the size of a squirrel. “Hello,” she quietly whispered to the mare. The tiny mare flew around her head several times and gently pulled at her mane before flying a short distance away. The flutter mare seemed to be encouraging Keahi to follow her. Keahi took a few steps towards the flutter and stopped. The flutter mare repeated the action of pulling on Keahi mane before Keahi starting following her again. After what appeared to be hours but was probably only fifteen minutes Keahi and the flutter emerged in a clearing of the woods. Keahi eyes widened the forest was beautiful here. Glowing mushrooms grew from tall trees with leafs that appeared silver. A stream could be seen nearby and small flutter soq of various shapes flew back and forth. The small flutter mare who lead the way into the clearing suddenly enlarged. “I was wondering what made such a sorrowful sound. You must be hungry and thirsty. I’m sumire head of woodland moth family. You can stay here for as long as you need. In the morning I’ll find my mate who lives outside of the woods and send my grandson calavera to look for your family.” Sumire remarked in a gentle manner. However Keahi soon learned of her family demise and found a place with the woodland moth herd. She promised herself as she grew older she would protect this family unlike the family she lost as a foal. Every few days her moth family paints her with a mixture of Mycena silvaelucen mushrooms(glowing) and their own glowing dust that will temporally paralyze an soq unused to the dust to protect her. Her glowing markings are all art done by the herd members to share with her how much the love her.
Entry: She woke up at the sound of the wind howling past the current groove where she recided in. The forest was quiet but not too awefully quiet for she could sense movements and hear breaths of life scattered throughout the area. Lifting an eye, she looked around and saw no one. "Typical," she muttered as she got up and walked into a c learing fully grown with corpse flowers. The air here smelled rancid and revolting, but it didn't bother the mare. She had grown accostumed to the smell of rotting flesh. In the past, while she was held captive by the settlers that invaded the land of Kawani, she was forced to witness her friends and comrades being decapitated infront of her very own ones. With each death, they would paint her dark body with a bright vibrant colour, reminding her that what will happen to her if she disobeyed her orders. As if they knew she could understand what they were actually saying. Each night they would build a campfire and brew a metal pot of fresh tea from flowers they had stolen from small defenseless villagers that lived in the forest. It surprisingly smelled comforting. It caused her to yearn to have a taste of it. But every time she stared at her own reflection in the lake, she would boil with anger inside. To the point where she convinced herself that she had to endure until faith would set her free.
On the night of Hallow's Eve, she woke with the smell of fire and explosives. Another group of settlers found their way through the land and declared war against the group before them. With much confusion there was a pull around her neck and she realised that this other type of human, a man, who seemed much clean shaven and more gentle, had decided to take her away quietly and unnoticed in the midst of war. Slowly and with much effort, he had earned her trust as he fed her and bathed her everyday near their fortress.
When the time came, he set her free. It was heartbreaking to let go, for they both had spent years together living freely and reigns free. She even allowed him to ride her to wherever he wanted to go. But this man became old and coughed up blood every night. Before he said his goodbye, he gave her a scarf as beautiful as the night's sky filled with stars and set her free.
Every year, she would return to this place grown full of corpse flowers for she remembers he gentle saviour that made her feel more alive then she ever could in captivity..
