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The Mountain loams big over the world of Beqanna – a guardian and tormentor. Sanctuary for the devious and magic faeries that police the mean streets of BQ. They recharge here so they may do their bidding, or whoever’s bidding, all around the land. You can feel the buzz of strong magic up through the bottoms of your feet, electrifying up your legs and into your chest. Even the surrounding skirt of meadows and hills around the mountain’s vast bottom is alive with energy. It seems to be the epicenter of magic here in this realm, from what City has gathered in her long, long life. She’s come here many times. She gave birth to Padme here, her last daughter, who know has a daughter of her own.
Like a butterfly at the end of it’s short life, the hobbling old mare makes her way to a final place – a place to land for the last time;
– a place to die.
It takes her days to get there, the journey itself almost kills her – with this arthritis, these cataracts, whatever else riddles her sickly mortal body. She’s too elderly to go on. She’s felt this before – she’s died before, under special circumstances, she’s eve hibernated. It’s likely that, collectively, she’s seen hundreds of years of Beqanna’s tumultuous evolution. She’s held on desperately to this life, claws sunk in as far as they will go and now, they give way. Her grip no longer has any strength left to go on.
So forward she goes, on rickety boney old legs that creak and rattle. Slowly she ascends up the mountainside. Tingling begins to take over her body, she doesn’t remember this from her trips before but it sort of takes the age pains away as she keeps climbing. The rock faces harbor swaths of flowered trees, bright pink and white, like clouds clinging to the gray stone mountainside.
Higher and higher…upward the clouds begin to veil the bottom of the mountain from being seen as she ascends. She begins to feel lighter, though she appears just the same – an old skeletal nag picking its way patiently to the very top. Soon would be the more treacherous part of the climb and the mare begins to stumble, even tripping and falling, smacking her nose into the moist dirt. She feels a bit dizzy and waits for that to go, standing and morphing into a pale jaguar, an easier form to move about in. She’s got easier bones to manage, but even still, she’s stiff with age.
Up and up the cat climbs, starting to breathe heavily, panting, each step like she’s dragging a boulder up with her.
The faeries granted her a quest for what she desired – immortality, but she was never able to achieve it. All through Beqanna she searched for anyone who might talk about their eternal life – the good and the bad, and everything in between. The faeries demanded she learn about it, and they promised afterward, if she were to learn, she could return to the mountain and have the ability she desired. She failed, having never been able to pin down any real substantial information from anyone. So, she’s come to die. To place where she begged for eternal life, she’s come to die.
Like a butterfly at the end of it’s short life, the hobbling old mare makes her way to a final place – a place to land for the last time;
– a place to die.
It takes her days to get there, the journey itself almost kills her – with this arthritis, these cataracts, whatever else riddles her sickly mortal body. She’s too elderly to go on. She’s felt this before – she’s died before, under special circumstances, she’s eve hibernated. It’s likely that, collectively, she’s seen hundreds of years of Beqanna’s tumultuous evolution. She’s held on desperately to this life, claws sunk in as far as they will go and now, they give way. Her grip no longer has any strength left to go on.
So forward she goes, on rickety boney old legs that creak and rattle. Slowly she ascends up the mountainside. Tingling begins to take over her body, she doesn’t remember this from her trips before but it sort of takes the age pains away as she keeps climbing. The rock faces harbor swaths of flowered trees, bright pink and white, like clouds clinging to the gray stone mountainside.
Higher and higher…upward the clouds begin to veil the bottom of the mountain from being seen as she ascends. She begins to feel lighter, though she appears just the same – an old skeletal nag picking its way patiently to the very top. Soon would be the more treacherous part of the climb and the mare begins to stumble, even tripping and falling, smacking her nose into the moist dirt. She feels a bit dizzy and waits for that to go, standing and morphing into a pale jaguar, an easier form to move about in. She’s got easier bones to manage, but even still, she’s stiff with age.
Up and up the cat climbs, starting to breathe heavily, panting, each step like she’s dragging a boulder up with her.
The faeries granted her a quest for what she desired – immortality, but she was never able to achieve it. All through Beqanna she searched for anyone who might talk about their eternal life – the good and the bad, and everything in between. The faeries demanded she learn about it, and they promised afterward, if she were to learn, she could return to the mountain and have the ability she desired. She failed, having never been able to pin down any real substantial information from anyone. So, she’s come to die. To place where she begged for eternal life, she’s come to die.
--------- 547 Words
----- Part II to follow.
--- auto quest for PHEONIX TYPE IMMORTALITY [0 Space Trait]
