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Shining, shivering - Nora - 04-17-2017
Eat, drink, sleep. Eat…sleep more. In fact, some days eroded so swiftly via a fretful slumber that I skipped the eating and drinking part all together. In those first days, (even when I’m pressed the point of sweet exhaustion) my mind combats itself. Every hour or so, these eyelids would fly open; flecks of moisture would crawl, forming moats throughout my coat. Real sleep did eventually come…fatigue went the distance and won the uphill skirmish. My worn-out body repaid the act of submission by beginning to truly heal itself. Days pass, morphing into a breathless blur. Since my arrival…the crowd mercifully left me to own devices. Peaceful rituals emerge, formed to idle those lax hours and comfort my internal demons. Recovering physical strength is easy and brief…it took a matter of days considering the generous amount of magic that had gone into mending…but this fractured mind couldn’t be sewn back together by craft alone…nor with short notice. My heart couldn’t simply ease itself back up from the dread of learned uncertainty. Even in a land swimming with the taste of my own – I’m constantly questioning their reality. The sound of rustling leaves or shadows is enough to skitter my heart. Doubt is a plague, whispering false notions and threats. Had I really escaped the jaws of my masters? ---- The first rays of light stream into my humble alcove. Hunger aches plea anxiously, sucking on my gut like a tick. Ears slide forward, listening to the quiet world beyond the rim of these dark quarters. Early birds have begun their songs; the muffled, near silent shadow of a red-tailed squirrel flits from a tall, leaning cedar. Forelimbs pull out in front – scrapping against the firm, compact soil. The rear portion of my hovel presses into my rump; the other walls are more forgiving, they allow six or so inches of space to separate me from the cold stone on either side. Though my abode isn’t spacious, there is just enough room to step inside, (if one ducked) turn around (carefully) and stand (or lay). Hindquarters tense, I lean forward, a dirty lock of hair falls over my eyes. A quick shake sends it aside; knees lock, holding me halfway upright in a sitting position. Wing joint flex, anticipating their release. Half a breath later and I’d managed to emerging from the cave with feathers uncoiling, soaking those scattered rays. Unhinged muscles sigh, relieved to be free of my preference in den. Travel wear and old aches have fled; but the demands of an empty, ill-nourished gut remain. Irises lift, surveying the familiar (learned) lay of terrain ahead of me. Evergreen marches straight to the mountain; short brush and barbed vine are tangled in the crags above me. Mossy turf spreads under the fallen array of needle and mushrooms grow in abundance around the heart of various elders. Over time, I’d come to know a few trails; mostly the ones which lead to water and food. Aside from the fleeting caw of a lone, territorial raven and the chatter of various rodents – the forest is quietly waking. Yawning even. Noah…physical needs are momentarily suppressed as I tread upon ignored waters. The bloated bodies of unaddressed issues lay in waiting, rotting in the darkness. His face, those soft blue green irises linger in my mind’s eye. Mini me arches her brow, regarding me skeptically -- I didn’t know where they sent him, or even if he’d stayed in the valley for long. OC: @Noah RE: Shining, shivering - Noah - 04-17-2017 RE: Shining, shivering - Nora - 04-18-2017
Contemplation on the whereabouts of my traveling companion(s) become as soft and distant as the waterfalls beyond those evergreens and the rise. Reality pumps its wings across those quiet, musing corners. Restoring another fragment of clarity. Hope. It becomes the first bloom in spring, forcing root upon the charred, upturned terrain. Daring to grow amidst the sorrow and chaos. Lungs suck in the sweet, thin mountain air. Free…that inner voice whispers, unfettered…liberated. During my captivity, I never counted on freedom – never looked to the day I would escape their clutch. Adaptation required immersion, not just the illusion of it. Those that looked forward to the day of their release became among the first to perish. But now… I step clear of the threshold (my threshold) entirely and merge into the stirring, waking glory of a renewed day. Now… The undiluted light becomes tender almost and -despite the call of necessity- I’m inspired to pause, turn my face to it. Lingering in the embrace of peace; allowing it to rain upon emotional scars like a salve. While I'm soaking that newfound resolve to dwell within the moment, absently, I glance down. Something…my expression hardens...odd had been sowed over the rocky floor. Brows narrow. There is... sun-bleached, trampled wheat of various type all strewed about. Mere feet from the mouth of my cave. I lean forward, nostrils quiver into action, scenting and surmising that it couldn’t have grown from the soil below. That clay, sandy loam wasn’t fertile enough to support anything more than peat moss at best. Temples dig a furrow, momentarily I'm lost with bemusement. How...? A vision comes to mind – answering a snippet of confusion with a hazy explanation. Very faintly, I can recall chewing on nearby stems during those faded, delirious days. While locked in a space of utter fatigue and restoration, I'd eaten very little and never thought to question the source of gratification. My focus shifts and settles on another piece the puzzle. Dispersed near the remains of that decaying flora. Hoof prints! Enormous marks that doubled the width of mine! My pulse became a mallet, hammering in my chest and echoing down the hollow passageways. Mini me looks up from her sunbath; a comforting, rare smile upon her face, ‘he was here.’ I frown and shake my head, instantly retreating to the open embrace of denial. These…might belong to anyone. Her figurative eyes seem to shine, smarting with amusement. She counters and chides with a single word, ‘anyone?’ Er. I swallow, becoming suddenly wary...but also…intrigued. Then…there is the faintest disturbance nearby. Mayhaps the stir of feathers as they flow over bedrock? I anticipate what I would find even before my neck cranes around to view that materialized suspicion. Mini me smirks with her ‘I told you so’ look and murmurs, ‘impeccable timing,’ before falling uselessly silent. I brace for the forked head of anxiety to rear; for fear to trickle in like a leak that never stopped. But my nerves are slow to form and…surprisingly tame to suppress. Though...hadn't he earned my trust…thrice multiplied? I shove remnants of negativity and doubt back beneath the foamy waves of my subconscious. Words bubble to the surface, reaching for the chance to emerge. But none of them are ones he’d understand, "Tu es resté." That admission is hardly at an recoverable octave; but the sound of my dry voice is useful to ground me. This wasn’t a dream. He wasn’t a false reality. Nostrils flare, attempting to drink his scent as I openly trace the chiseled contours, lingering on favored and familiar curves. Rising from the steeled cords of his legs and beyond until finally…I venture to find his green-blue gaze, “hi,” murmured from my collection of sparse vocabulary, I produce a greeting, hoping it would suit him. Fixed irises flick to the blades between his teeth; a hot flush splashes up my neck, singing my unspoken response to the solution. It was him after all…he’d brought food. "Qu'es-tu," I break off, missing a beat but recognizing my mistake. Before coming here...I'd learned to survive by avoiding contact; but there had been a rare few who bore enough patience to toil through the exchange of words. We often only accomplished this by using simple sentences...and miming or harnessing universal gestures. I put my education to practice and gesture his way with the butt of my snout, simultaneously clicking my jaws together and fanning both ears forward, signaling a willingness to listen and convey, “why?” It wasn’t correct…I’d wanted to ask, ‘what,’ but the meager store I borrowed from is bare boned and lusterless. OC: @Noah RE: Shining, shivering - Noah - 04-19-2017 RE: Shining, shivering - Nora - 04-20-2017
Just like those lonely months spent in captivity, in isolation. I couldn't broach a useful conversation -- nor question or test his morals. In all ways, we are perfect strangers; tethered by experience, but wholly ignorant. We hardly knew anything about each other. And despite the slew of unanswered questions that circle my mind regarding him, flagging caution, begging for answer…I feel myself softening, favoring his charitable perception. Despite our obvious differences, he is steady in provision. Noah’s empathy and tolerance continue to surprise, befuddle and refresh me; but I had no template to compare him with. He is different from everything I’d known before. Unlike my captors, he didn’t use physical/emotional leverage to hold me beneath his heel, tether our conversation with threats, guilt or false hope; nor did he root our newborn bond with confusion and riddles…the eagle speaks and acts purposely, choosing simple responses rather than the rapid, complex utterance of those who’d come before him. Ears prick, quenching my socially starved mind on his downpour of mercy and consideration. When the question of my well-being arose, a meek smile filters in …and for the first time in a long while…my answer isn’t born from what he expected to hear – nor does it rise with an obligation to conceal emotion. “Yes,” lips murmur; I nod, further supporting my reply as a genuine one. Irises drop to the turf he’d brought along. Consideration weighs the risk – my hungry gut snarls, angered by the delay. Those quivering, grumbling innards overwhelm the debate; physical need summons me closer. Go ahead, it seems to whisper, imploring. Though my eyes are fixed somewhere between the ground and his forelimbs – my imagination runs amuck and assumes the weight of his eyes are on me nevertheless. Judging me? Goose chills rise on my skin, enticing a shiver...Yet, also making me uncomfortably hot despite the lukewarm glare of sunlight. Nostrils lower, stretching to arrive at my destination before the vast majority of me does. Ears creep forward, habit embedded awareness. The sweet, sugared aroma wafers eagerly upward – enticing my hunger to become more insistent. His scent lavishes the blades, I lean down, irises crane up…asking permission before sinking to snag mouthful into my hungry, baited jaws. The emerald grains settle lightly into my belly. Before long, the entire offering has vanished. Unflinchingly, my snout drifts over the floor, harrowing in on the remainder. Feathers quiver, rustling against my trembling, sweltered flesh. They loosen for comfort, allowing air to flow between those humid contours. The meager (but thoughtful) stash might’ve kept hunger at bay during fits of sleep – but it wasn’t nearly enough now. If anything, my craving for nourishment doubled. Gems lift, studying the male with passive intrigue, rather than fabricated animosity. He’d put everything on the line for me…and went further still. Noah...he offered uncustomary warmth and security; frosty negativity has already begun to fade. His empathy fans the ember of trust…I feel a change in my regard for him. There is something waking in the darkness; something beyond the simple desire to understand and be understood. There are few similarities, physically, we are as different as the moon and sun. He. A golden, dappled king with upstanding breeding and gorgeous, masculine anatomy. And I? A gutter wench; the depraved pet who’d slipped her collar. My heartstrings throb nervously, resonating a warning to tread with caution. But as I study the kindly, boxy, sculpted line along his jaw and drift downward – my gaze and focus become centered on the badges he earned for my sake. Shame devastates me, my bemused, inquisitive exploration crumbles; the price of freedom shouldn’t have been his to pay. Had I remained a captive, our chance meeting wouldn’t have transpired. Perhaps even, the traumatizing of his impeccable canvas would’ve been avoided. Paper thin nostrils flare, drowning in the pheromones of unmarked terrain. That self-preserving, learnt instinct to be the wall flower – to feel self-conscious and cautious -- becomes momentary preoccupied with compassion and the all-consuming flavor of him. To me…he smelled like summertime, salt and sun-dried wheat. But also, there was something sweet and inviting about him… like the shade of a weeping pine or the cool, forgiving soil beside a stream. Brows arch, signaling questions that I didn’t know how to ask. Instead…I follow the pull of my subconscious as she eases me closer. Forefeet edge a step or so in his direction, my neck extends – asking for permission to solidify upon his marred tawny skin. Erase the damage, take the wound upon myself. Between us, that static, taunt air seems to crack; my pulse thickens, drumming loudly. Another spasm of heat rises to my face, yet, I surge with the desire to breach that bubble of seclusion. Wordlessly sooth and answer his compassion with something tangible. Something he could see and feel – since our words couldn’t accurately express gratitude or pity. The insecurity and possibility of rejection comes blaring into view only when turning back becomes awkward and impossible for me. Irises are locked upon those brackish lines, tears prick the corners – a fist grabs my throat, constricting airflow. I freeze, halfway immersed in my breach of our personal space. That dark memory of our collective demon pours itself over me; a drench, it ices the warmth in my eyes and wounds the starving trust in my expression. I’ve poured my grief into the furthest corners, fabricating a shield, a mask; but that didn’t mean it wasn’t still there, “ow,” I whisper remorsefully, sympathetically; all the while blinking back those withheld drops of salty water, even as they burn to fall. OC: @Noah RE: Shining, shivering - Noah - 04-21-2017 RE: Shining, shivering - Nora - 04-22-2017
That universal gesture, the nodding, pulls my burning gaze from wallowing in the reality of my sin against him. Irises peek upward, tears brace against the internal weight and responsibility that the fledged warrior is obviously (to me) concealing. His reply ricochets off the invisible barrier, silken threads flash against my heels in response. Frustration toward our handicap sparks; here is yet another exotic sound that bears no meaning. Irises carve a downward path, tenderly falling upon his tawny, tainted shoulder as it ripples and budges. Though the disfigured meat doesn’t seem to hinder my savior in the slightest; guilt isn’t so easily alleviated. It might take a long time to fade (if it ever did.) Rebuked by inner conflicts, my head retracts, curling inward protectively – as if that extra distance would drown the hot, charged atmosphere between us. The wind stirs, whispering in the trees. A pair of dusted sparrows dart into the canopy, their sharp, muffled cries (which could mean anything) disappear into the distance. We walk? Ears slant backward and temples delve, wordlessly (unhelpfully) answering his question with scrunched confusion. Inexpressible lips curl downward as vexed emotions bubble to the surface of my mind. Our brief attempts at conversation highlight a timeworn truth, ‘two steps forward, one step back.’ But rather than waste effort on riddling his words, I scan, searching for those tiny gestures and hints. Despite the fog of doubt (which is fueled by a perception of mediocre abilities) invading my heart, I remain naively hung to the idea that he might bring clarity with body language alone. As if taking cue, the eagle turns aside; casting a glance rearmost with what I perceive as an expectation. That’s when the light bulb of realization hums to life. His smog lifts fractionally, allowing brackish beams of light to filter through the obscurity. A downcast expression can’t help but brighten. Ears rise, resuming their watchful, engrossed position now that uncertainty has bowed into a blissful sense of progress. Outwardly, my crown politely averts; but inwardly -deep inside- mini me gawks, openly appreciating those masculine, square lines of perfection. A timid word of verification mounts behind my lips, “follow?” Brows arch slightly while these dual hue eyes tilt upward to track the lines of his expression like a road-map. Unlike my previous self-imposed masters…his request doesn’t seem like one that took the form of an order. The right forelimb lifts, pushing me another trembling step nearer; highlighting a willingness to show my obedience to him. Mini me isn't so cautious today -- she skips along, grinning fresh encouragement from the shadows. Irritably, my aching gut rumbles. RE: Shining, shivering - Noah - 04-23-2017 RE: Shining, shivering - Nora - 05-03-2017
Follow…one of the few words known by heart. Faintly, the source of said utterance stirs bittersweet memories to the surface of my mind. A stern, dappled face beckons my attention from beneath the figurative surface...but when I look up...that internal conflict shrinks beneath the compassion of the eagle. Merciful distractions plunge those unaddressed issues back into the depths. Even still... those unsealed wounds twinge with sourness and neglect. Mini me groans irritably and whispers under her breath, ‘he isn’t the potion master who owned us.’ Of course not… My desire to heed is dimmed by internal, questioning salt -- guilt and curiosity are what bend my will to his desire. In an effort to mimic his eagerness, I take that first step, “follow,” my slender, malnourished head dips agreeably. Thin toes fall into the indention's his feathered, giant feet leave behind. I sink in myself, thankful that his instruction and the brief relay of a new term is paired with unbothered silence which suits my lack of social grace. But it wasn’t long before the forest offers diversion from my hangry stomach and those internal frays of guilt and déjà vu. A chitchatting, barking grey squirrel yips aggressively at us from the safety of an evergreen canopy. When my irises venture off to the right of said path they find a female hind merging from the shadows into the dusted sunlight. Her mouse colored ears swivel like dials; continuously watching our every move. Though to me…her caution feels slight, as if she were unafraid. I glance rearmost, watching her cross the path as soon as we pass. In some ways, these lands could replicate the one I'd fled from. The cold, terrain, local flora – all of it fits into the framework of my captivity. The only difference…there weren’t fangs on the branch of every other tree, nor prey milling around like scorned whelps. Gems cycle upward, centering upon shifting, rippling tawny hindquarters and the tidy, silken locks that ran abundantly from the top of his dock. Male vocals throw a pebble against my bubble, surprising me. These ears dart rearward – uncertainty already filtering over my expression...then...he dips to the ground and lips at the turf beneath. My subconscious puzzles out a variety of solutions immediately, “food,” I murmur in his tongue, testing the word. Limbs pause, giving me time to dip and snap meekly at the brisk stalks. "Herbe?" The act of tying a word would take more than one instance; and until we developed an understanding of each other...I could only test the water and anticipate his intentions. |