11-10-2018, 01:25 PM
Many times she has found herself called to this place. Looking into the heights of the sky and thinking of the journey she was about to make. It was for her own selfish gains before, but now, it is to serve them. To right the wrongs done by others -to subdue the evil they have spread across their lands. She had brought one of these evils to life, a contributor to the pain and suffering others now endure. She endures. A sickly cough rattles in her lungs, a feeble attempt to expel the poison that seats deep in her lungs. It weakens her, this plague. But the knowledge she has gained through out her life strengthens her. Gives her hope, that in time, they can place the demons released upon their world back into their cages. If they are to work together.
She stands before the fairies, listening to their demands -the requirement needed to rid their world of the pestilence that has gripped their lands. There was always a cost -a price to be paid for the gifts. A task to earn good faith with the faerie and prove your dedication. She has proved it before and she shall again, and again, if that was the price to be paid.
The instructions given seem simple enough and she knows there will be no aide. This journey must be taken without gifts previously granted. Those gathered are returned to a level of normalcy that often isn't seen in Beqanna. They are nothing but equine -traitless, giftless. It is a truth she has never truly known and she feels slightly abnormal without her powers. Nevertheless she will make the journey if that is what is required...
With the fairies stomp of an icey hoof they all turn to begin the trek north. Since their world has changed, she has yet to know just how the map has shifted. Lands that shared borders, now were unfamiliar and she wonders what she will find beyond the Mountains border.
She finds a river to lead her from the sacred place -its currents flowing the opposite direction that she wishes to go. Winter has burdened the lands for sometime now. Her coat had thickened but the sickness in her has caused patches to thin, leaving her skin exposed to the frigid temps. A winters wind bites at this tender flesh, while constricting her breathing even more than the fluid that thickens the lining of her lungs. The journey ahead of her will be long and she is quite aware she may not survive.
Coming to the borders of the first land, she finds the landscape recognizable. The steep hills of cragged rock had been tough to overcome the first time she had been here. But she had been younger than. Naive, selfish, destructive. The fire that had been started, the plants destroyed, earth toppled and sickness spread was in partial her doing. These memories plague her every day and night. More so now than ever before. Hyaline and its people did not deserve what they had received from a group of troublemakers. But it had been done and her part was played.
Her ivory dipped limbs move her carefully through the passages of rock and deep into the lands heart. A frozen lake sits within its center, a barren wisteria at its edge. The land was still and nearly lifeless. Surely this is a plagued land. A lump hardens in her throat and she is unsure if it is the memories that cause it or the drowning pressure inside her. Another cough erupts as she attempts to clear it but it is no use. Her lungs quake and ribs bruise from the constant pounding of organ on cartilage. Her movement only stops when she arrives to the redwood that towers above the rest of the land. She had planted it as only a seed and her magic had advanced its growth. The magic given to her by the faerie upon completion of their task.
In their troubled word, this tree is a small reminder of hope. It causes a weak smile to find her pale lips stained with the blood of her father. It gives her the will to carry on, to find what inner strength is harbored within her.
She ascends the northern border of mountainous rocks. Each step is draining but she finds it within herself to move forward. Cresting the peak of the region, a golden glow of a rising sun illuminates across the tops of a land that had been her home for so many years. Her dedication to renew what had been destroyed by the selfish deeds of others. A land torn apart by the fury the fairies had felt for their selfish ways. She had spent years returning the lands of the majestic redwoods to its former glory. A sentiment of her servitude. She had met her father here and the memory warms her even as she knows he is no longer lives.
Her descent into the woodlands is swift. For a second she feels as if her sickness is eased. That is before she chokes on an inhale of breath. The white of her eyes show her fear that this is the end. That she will not make it to the island and her quest to save their world was for not. Panic sets in and she thrusts herself into the rough bark of a nearby tree trunk. Pine needles shower her from above, like tiny needles they pierce her thin hide. The pain radiates through her but the force of the blow causes blood the cough from her lungs. Another breath in and she quiets, trying to retain her composure before moving on.
Once the oxygen returns her face to a fleshy color, she walks onward. Weaving through solid pillars of pine she breathes in the scent of the forest. It refreshes her thoughts and steadies her mind. The task at hand still present as she nears a coastline. The expanse of ocean before her in vast and in the far distance she can see an island of ice and snow. It was much too far for her to reach, not when she was so weak.
Her head turns up the shoreline and finds it extends quite far north still. She wonders if journeying further would bring her closer to her destination. Decided in not giving up, she paves a path alongside the ocean.
This land was foreign to her. It surfaced no memories and she thinks it to be new. The cliffs of its coast were high above the waters and brushless, free of the protection from the seas wrath winds. The oceans fury batters her sides and chills her core -stripping her of any warmth her insides could create. It was the only way to reach the far northern tip and so she walks, step by step.
Joints aching and muscles tensed, she reaches the end of land. Here the shores of the icey island were much closer and she is certain she can make it across the bridge of water. The winds whip a spray of water across her body and she shivers. Now that she was wet she might as well continue...
She held her head above the whitecapping waves the best she could. The waters tossed her around, seemingly pushing her farther into the open water. Her limbs fought against them, determined to not fall victim to the seas. She had come so far to die without purpose. Each kick brought her nearer to the island shores where others had already arrived. And when she reaches land of ice, she exits the cold waters to find the air here is everything it was expected to be. Quickly the water freezes to icicles upon her flesh, the frigid winds stinging her flesh. But she was here.
She was alive.
She stands before the fairies, listening to their demands -the requirement needed to rid their world of the pestilence that has gripped their lands. There was always a cost -a price to be paid for the gifts. A task to earn good faith with the faerie and prove your dedication. She has proved it before and she shall again, and again, if that was the price to be paid.
The instructions given seem simple enough and she knows there will be no aide. This journey must be taken without gifts previously granted. Those gathered are returned to a level of normalcy that often isn't seen in Beqanna. They are nothing but equine -traitless, giftless. It is a truth she has never truly known and she feels slightly abnormal without her powers. Nevertheless she will make the journey if that is what is required...
With the fairies stomp of an icey hoof they all turn to begin the trek north. Since their world has changed, she has yet to know just how the map has shifted. Lands that shared borders, now were unfamiliar and she wonders what she will find beyond the Mountains border.
She finds a river to lead her from the sacred place -its currents flowing the opposite direction that she wishes to go. Winter has burdened the lands for sometime now. Her coat had thickened but the sickness in her has caused patches to thin, leaving her skin exposed to the frigid temps. A winters wind bites at this tender flesh, while constricting her breathing even more than the fluid that thickens the lining of her lungs. The journey ahead of her will be long and she is quite aware she may not survive.
Coming to the borders of the first land, she finds the landscape recognizable. The steep hills of cragged rock had been tough to overcome the first time she had been here. But she had been younger than. Naive, selfish, destructive. The fire that had been started, the plants destroyed, earth toppled and sickness spread was in partial her doing. These memories plague her every day and night. More so now than ever before. Hyaline and its people did not deserve what they had received from a group of troublemakers. But it had been done and her part was played.
Her ivory dipped limbs move her carefully through the passages of rock and deep into the lands heart. A frozen lake sits within its center, a barren wisteria at its edge. The land was still and nearly lifeless. Surely this is a plagued land. A lump hardens in her throat and she is unsure if it is the memories that cause it or the drowning pressure inside her. Another cough erupts as she attempts to clear it but it is no use. Her lungs quake and ribs bruise from the constant pounding of organ on cartilage. Her movement only stops when she arrives to the redwood that towers above the rest of the land. She had planted it as only a seed and her magic had advanced its growth. The magic given to her by the faerie upon completion of their task.
In their troubled word, this tree is a small reminder of hope. It causes a weak smile to find her pale lips stained with the blood of her father. It gives her the will to carry on, to find what inner strength is harbored within her.
She ascends the northern border of mountainous rocks. Each step is draining but she finds it within herself to move forward. Cresting the peak of the region, a golden glow of a rising sun illuminates across the tops of a land that had been her home for so many years. Her dedication to renew what had been destroyed by the selfish deeds of others. A land torn apart by the fury the fairies had felt for their selfish ways. She had spent years returning the lands of the majestic redwoods to its former glory. A sentiment of her servitude. She had met her father here and the memory warms her even as she knows he is no longer lives.
Her descent into the woodlands is swift. For a second she feels as if her sickness is eased. That is before she chokes on an inhale of breath. The white of her eyes show her fear that this is the end. That she will not make it to the island and her quest to save their world was for not. Panic sets in and she thrusts herself into the rough bark of a nearby tree trunk. Pine needles shower her from above, like tiny needles they pierce her thin hide. The pain radiates through her but the force of the blow causes blood the cough from her lungs. Another breath in and she quiets, trying to retain her composure before moving on.
Once the oxygen returns her face to a fleshy color, she walks onward. Weaving through solid pillars of pine she breathes in the scent of the forest. It refreshes her thoughts and steadies her mind. The task at hand still present as she nears a coastline. The expanse of ocean before her in vast and in the far distance she can see an island of ice and snow. It was much too far for her to reach, not when she was so weak.
Her head turns up the shoreline and finds it extends quite far north still. She wonders if journeying further would bring her closer to her destination. Decided in not giving up, she paves a path alongside the ocean.
This land was foreign to her. It surfaced no memories and she thinks it to be new. The cliffs of its coast were high above the waters and brushless, free of the protection from the seas wrath winds. The oceans fury batters her sides and chills her core -stripping her of any warmth her insides could create. It was the only way to reach the far northern tip and so she walks, step by step.
Joints aching and muscles tensed, she reaches the end of land. Here the shores of the icey island were much closer and she is certain she can make it across the bridge of water. The winds whip a spray of water across her body and she shivers. Now that she was wet she might as well continue...
She held her head above the whitecapping waves the best she could. The waters tossed her around, seemingly pushing her farther into the open water. Her limbs fought against them, determined to not fall victim to the seas. She had come so far to die without purpose. Each kick brought her nearer to the island shores where others had already arrived. And when she reaches land of ice, she exits the cold waters to find the air here is everything it was expected to be. Quickly the water freezes to icicles upon her flesh, the frigid winds stinging her flesh. But she was here.
She was alive.
Kolera
Earth to Earth, Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust.