O C E A N E
Hath in her veins,
to beat and run,
the glad indomitable sea,
the strong white sun.
to beat and run,
the glad indomitable sea,
the strong white sun.
The time she spends beneath the sweeping branches of the willow is dedicated to memories from her past. Undeterred by her efforts to concentrate on the budding verdant boughs overhead or the thick copse of trees that surround her beyond the wall of the willow, the determined will of her retrospection continues to seep into her thoughts time and time again.
Eventually, begrudgingly, she succumbs to it.
Nau-Aib returns to her, and it is so ingrained in Oceane's memory that she can nearly smell the sand in the air and hear the sharp arithmantic commands that curled from the mouths of magik-capable arithmancers like foreign tongues. She can feel the King's leer as it collides with her, heavy and acidic with vehemence he had never cared nor tried to hide. She was a living reminder of her own mother's adulteration, but the King was so centered in the public eye that he could not be rid of her without controversy. He could still punish her for her mother's crimes, though, and that was an opportunity he did not let pass: her two newborn colts, two years apart, each ripped from her side before they had the taste of milk on their tongues, murdered within the hour.
What else could she have expected from a society that rid themselves of colts who did not possess blood from the royal line?
Hello.
The voice catches Oceane unaware, tugging her roughly from the memories that have twisted her face into a grimace and back to the Forest. And to the smoky black mare from where the greeting had come. Oceane's gilded eyes meet the mare's silvered ones and then, after registering the red gash that claws its way across the woman's chest, her gaze returns to her blue-blaze face.
"Sochi?" she asks tentatively before she holds her breath, wondering if it's good luck or bad that has helped the two women meet in these woods today.
@[sochi]
""
Eventually, begrudgingly, she succumbs to it.
Nau-Aib returns to her, and it is so ingrained in Oceane's memory that she can nearly smell the sand in the air and hear the sharp arithmantic commands that curled from the mouths of magik-capable arithmancers like foreign tongues. She can feel the King's leer as it collides with her, heavy and acidic with vehemence he had never cared nor tried to hide. She was a living reminder of her own mother's adulteration, but the King was so centered in the public eye that he could not be rid of her without controversy. He could still punish her for her mother's crimes, though, and that was an opportunity he did not let pass: her two newborn colts, two years apart, each ripped from her side before they had the taste of milk on their tongues, murdered within the hour.
What else could she have expected from a society that rid themselves of colts who did not possess blood from the royal line?
Hello.
The voice catches Oceane unaware, tugging her roughly from the memories that have twisted her face into a grimace and back to the Forest. And to the smoky black mare from where the greeting had come. Oceane's gilded eyes meet the mare's silvered ones and then, after registering the red gash that claws its way across the woman's chest, her gaze returns to her blue-blaze face.
"Sochi?" she asks tentatively before she holds her breath, wondering if it's good luck or bad that has helped the two women meet in these woods today.
""
neamrel / thedayofshadow
i must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
and all i ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by
and all i ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by