things waking
Old voices—songs that carry in echoes on stifling breezes, in the ripples on sluggish water and in the rhythmic creaking of the cicadas.
Since the fireflies came, and one buck and one doe, one black and white and one spectrum-hued, emerged from the deeps of the swamp newly-changed, the dreams of the Kimeti are sometimes unsettled: full of cranes weeping over empty nests, and does screaming for lost foals and reuniting with them in a surge of fierce joy, and songs sung by strange voices. Falcons in vast, terrifyingly open skies, over a field of soft grass that moves like waves. A sensation of incredible speed, and exhilarating freedom, and deep breaths. In the waking world, smells that are pale green and warm and oddly dry sweep down on the winds, which seem unusually penetrating, and some claim that when they strain, they hear laughter and wailing coming too.
The Kimeti are telling the old stories again. They tell the tales of the Crane, who laid her eggs and watched all her children vanish but two, who became the first Kimeti, and were told to keep watch over the wisdom of the Swamp, and keep the stories, and keep the songs, and share them. No one can agree on which story is the right one: this one, from a buck’s grandfather, or this one, heard years ago by an elderly doe, or that, or that…
Some more adventurous Kimeti are venturing boldly into the trees at the edge of the Swamp, and even into the shallowest of marshes, barely more than barren mud flats. Some have even found high places, and strained on these bare hills to look with strange longing at the hills ringing the Northern Border, before the ache and the sickness force them back down into the humidity, back down with unavoidable loyalty tempered with generations of instilled fear of the Outside places. Some, for reasons they cannot fathom, weep as if they’ve lost a mate, or a friend, or a parent, or a foal. Others are filled with a strange and indescribable joy of anticipation, dancing and celebrating under the hot sun.
And you? What are your dreams? With whom do you discuss them? Do you tell the tales of the Crane, or the other old stories, or do you listen to them? Do you struggle out past Thistle’s blasted lands to strain at the horizon, which in all likelihood you have never before seen? Do you dismiss the stories of sounds and smells on the winds? Are you excited, or are you afraid? Did the Legendaries bring something wonderful, or something terrible? Is the Swamp bringing great joy, or some obscure punishment for the strayed ways of her children?
Strange things are coming to Matope… Where will you be when they arrive?
info
Things Waking is a subforum for plot-related roleplays. So far, this is all you get of said plot stirring in the night, but feel free to take it however you feel your Kimeti would! Threads can either deal directly with the plot or simply involve kimeti who would like to play a part in the coming events, either is fine. By starting or joining threads in this forum, you will be noted for upcoming rewards or prizes (likely in the form of pets or gold!).
If you'd be open to an NPC coming into your thread, post 'Open to Plot' in the subject line of your rp.
