M A R E N - By the precepts of her purity -
With its wintery orange, the sunlight reflected its light into the crystal crusts of snow growing from shadowed rooms, hidden between the huge boulders forming the island. While she enjoyed the sun's cool warmth embracing her face, Maren watched the low stance of the dissolved winter sun. Even now, at the peak of the coldest season, it was mostly the wind that was cold, and now and then it took a sweep at the Fire, made the flames dance close to the ground before they jumped back towards the sky again. But it took the never-ending smoke away without a cringe and the diviners pale hair danced along as she watched the smoke disappear from her vision.
The salty stench of the beach filled her cloudy nose as her thoughtful eyes watched the uncomfortable sea. Restless and uneasy, as if a reflection of her own mind. And yet it was not the Fires that made her uneasy, nor was it the wind taking the smoke as easily as a predator grabbing a rabbit's neck. It was more the winter depression that had been sailing the waters of her mind, created waves of ruin to pull down ships of nostalgia into the darkness as she got remembered of her home, every time a snowflake leaped down her vision to a frozen world. It wasn't relevant anymore, she knew that. And yet, today — at the peak of this silent, frostbitten world — there was nothing much else to think about. It was more than a sinking ship in the back of her mind, it was like a weight pulling also her down, as she realized the winter made her longingly nostalgic for the cream-dipped mountains in the north. Her north.
So she swallowed as she watched the sea and tasted its suddenly foreign-tasting salt. Can I handle this changing of seasons and can I handle its loneliness, she wondered as the caress of heartache found her. And she felt the frozen touch of somewhere she knew she couldn't be anymore.
The humming of her heart pulsed along like a clockwork when she looked up at the Fire, still dancing (always dancing). She stepped towards it, golden glimmering eyes reflecting like little globes. She breathed in the smoky air that had replaced the salty taste and she knew she would wait for the Fire to show her visions until the smoke would completely fill her lungs. She knew this was her task as diviner — she knew passing on the visions she saw to her Sultan and Sultana was what was entrusted to her, but today, more then anything she wanted to feel the dripping of something melting — to burn the nostalgia away.
And she was glad that she at least had the sun's embrace to feel her, the fire's warmth to warm her. And with its gentle touch roses were growing were she hadn't been before in reflections leaning against the still waters of her mind as the brightness in the heart of the fires stained her vision.
@[Random Event]
Notes: Fire-watching, open (: |
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