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11-11-2015, 10:52 PM
AISLING
my friend makes rings, she swirls and sings
she’s a mystic in the sense that she’s still mystified by things
my friend makes rings, she swirls and sings
she’s a mystic in the sense that she’s still mystified by things
Aisling watched the volcanic behemoth with a strange curiosity. He frightened her, so obvious was his physical strength, but still she wanted to linger, to ask him more questions about what he was feeling and why. The Sun God had told her to study emotion and she had taken to that task valiantly. And here was a subject who could perhaps teach her so much more. The emotions he displayed were so foreign to her good-natured, happy heart. This was more than anger (a child could be angry at his parents enforcing bedtime) this was rage. She’d heard about it in stories, heard others speak of it, but to her recollection she had never truly encountered it. What a sheltered life she had lived…
She kept here eyes on the black one while he spoke of the land he had come from. The description was brief but it made her shudder all the same. All the horrible evil things he spoke of that she could barely imagine, Aisling wondered how he dd not weep to remember. But there were no tears upon his face and what shook his voice was that anger that seemed to emanate from him like the steam that rose off the fissures in his back.
Even as she feared him, she pitted him. It must hurt so very much, having all of that anger inside of you… He had seemed to react badly, almost mistrustful, when she had tried to approach with the kindness that was so natural and necessary to her, so she tried not to let too much of her sorrow for his past show. Still, her ears fell back in an unhappy gesture. “Helovia is not perfect, but I hope you’ll find it better than where you’ve come from. I’m afraid you saw the worst in the Goddess, but her brothers are not so dark and angry as she. I don’t know much of the Lord of the Spark yet, but the God of the Earth is kind and gentle. The Sun, well he is proud and prickly but not malicious.” Perhaps he’d scoff, he didn’t seem to much enthused about the prospect of the Helovian deities. “We don’t see them often, in truth, but they gan be generous if they’ve a mind to be.”
The stud’s last questions had her pausing. The faerie was not sure how much she should say about the Whatch, if she had not said too much already. She frowned up at the angry one, but before she could decide how much to divulge, the one she’d seen in midnight blue stepped up to join them. The movement of the black seemed protective, and that did some to ease her mind on him somehow. Aisling gave a small smile to the young stallion—he seems angry too, but maybe a little less wind and dangerous. “Hello. You have got quite a burn on that shoulder there. I could help a bit if you’d allow it.” She bent her neck tug the braid across her shoulder forward so the little bundles tied into the ribbons would be more visible. “I’ve a few herbs that would suite for a bit of a salve. It wouldn’t be a magic fix, but it would help the healing along.”
Excited about the prospect of being helpful, the little mare didn’t quite wait for an affirmative before she dashed a bit away to collect a fee more bits and bobs. She nearly skipped back with a mouthful of broad leaves in her mouth and set them on the ground and got to work. Little grey hooves muddied themselves as she dug up a small patch of damp earth. once she’d cleared a tiny patch of mud of grass and debris, she tugged a few of the little purple blossoms and sweet-smelling leaves from her bundles and crushed them into the cool mud.
All the while she was working, she spoke in a gentle fashion, like her mother—a great healer— always adopted when telling a story to distract the patient from their pain. “There is a group that stays to the shadows, called the Whatch. Its members span the four corners of Helovia, every land, every herd, and create the Sky that leads us, the Ground that supports us, and both Fire and Ice to each side.” Every so often she glanced up at one or both and then back to her meticulous work. “We stand vigil. Right the wrongs that we can and offer help to those in need. We pay homage to none, and play no part in politics, we are not sell-swords. We will stand for justice if no one else will; maintain order and return the natural rights of the living where they have been taken.”
Finished with her task, she nodded at the little brown, purple flecked patch of earth and looked to the young stallion. “You’ve a princely look about you and may not think the mud dignified, but it will be cool and keep out what would make your wounds worse, The Winter Savory will help keep infection away and the catnip will subdue swelling…. May I?”
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She kept here eyes on the black one while he spoke of the land he had come from. The description was brief but it made her shudder all the same. All the horrible evil things he spoke of that she could barely imagine, Aisling wondered how he dd not weep to remember. But there were no tears upon his face and what shook his voice was that anger that seemed to emanate from him like the steam that rose off the fissures in his back.
Even as she feared him, she pitted him. It must hurt so very much, having all of that anger inside of you… He had seemed to react badly, almost mistrustful, when she had tried to approach with the kindness that was so natural and necessary to her, so she tried not to let too much of her sorrow for his past show. Still, her ears fell back in an unhappy gesture. “Helovia is not perfect, but I hope you’ll find it better than where you’ve come from. I’m afraid you saw the worst in the Goddess, but her brothers are not so dark and angry as she. I don’t know much of the Lord of the Spark yet, but the God of the Earth is kind and gentle. The Sun, well he is proud and prickly but not malicious.” Perhaps he’d scoff, he didn’t seem to much enthused about the prospect of the Helovian deities. “We don’t see them often, in truth, but they gan be generous if they’ve a mind to be.”
The stud’s last questions had her pausing. The faerie was not sure how much she should say about the Whatch, if she had not said too much already. She frowned up at the angry one, but before she could decide how much to divulge, the one she’d seen in midnight blue stepped up to join them. The movement of the black seemed protective, and that did some to ease her mind on him somehow. Aisling gave a small smile to the young stallion—he seems angry too, but maybe a little less wind and dangerous. “Hello. You have got quite a burn on that shoulder there. I could help a bit if you’d allow it.” She bent her neck tug the braid across her shoulder forward so the little bundles tied into the ribbons would be more visible. “I’ve a few herbs that would suite for a bit of a salve. It wouldn’t be a magic fix, but it would help the healing along.”
Excited about the prospect of being helpful, the little mare didn’t quite wait for an affirmative before she dashed a bit away to collect a fee more bits and bobs. She nearly skipped back with a mouthful of broad leaves in her mouth and set them on the ground and got to work. Little grey hooves muddied themselves as she dug up a small patch of damp earth. once she’d cleared a tiny patch of mud of grass and debris, she tugged a few of the little purple blossoms and sweet-smelling leaves from her bundles and crushed them into the cool mud.
All the while she was working, she spoke in a gentle fashion, like her mother—a great healer— always adopted when telling a story to distract the patient from their pain. “There is a group that stays to the shadows, called the Whatch. Its members span the four corners of Helovia, every land, every herd, and create the Sky that leads us, the Ground that supports us, and both Fire and Ice to each side.” Every so often she glanced up at one or both and then back to her meticulous work. “We stand vigil. Right the wrongs that we can and offer help to those in need. We pay homage to none, and play no part in politics, we are not sell-swords. We will stand for justice if no one else will; maintain order and return the natural rights of the living where they have been taken.”
Finished with her task, she nodded at the little brown, purple flecked patch of earth and looked to the young stallion. “You’ve a princely look about you and may not think the mud dignified, but it will be cool and keep out what would make your wounds worse, The Winter Savory will help keep infection away and the catnip will subdue swelling…. May I?”
"."
@Jaeger @Kratos
[now come the days of the dreamer and they are filled with wonder and light ]
:: permission given for use of magic and force :: please tag Aisling in all posts ::
