.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
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
Indeed Aisling was not far off. She had found the hidden grove several days previous, and after a quick adventure to the western beach was dancing her way back. She hoped that somewhere between there and the threshold she would find her way back to Kvothe, It seemed silly now that they had not set a certain meeting place, but this magical swath of willows certainly seemed like a place he would linger. As was natural, she hummed as she moved, a rolling trot that weaved in and out of trees with no hurry or haste. An occasional stream of lyrics would rise out of her voice but her mind was trained on finding signs of her new friend than on her singing and she would fall back into a soft melodic hum again.
She was rewarded for her good supposition. The first thing she heard above the soft whisper of wind through the willow trees was the merry tinkling of a tiny bell. The permanent smile pinned upon her face brightened with delight. Surely that was him! She picked up her pace, eager to find her company, but drew up short in surprise when she rounded the next bend in the path. She was puzzled to find little Elodin (with the single silver bell chiming on his chest) by himself, and she quickly turned her head this way and that bit there was no sign of Kvothe. “Well little one, what on this good earth do ye mean by wonderin’ about on your own? Where’s our friend got to, eh?” There was only a little reprimand in her lilting speech but she ended on a chuckle as the creature turned his proud self right around and began to lead her back up the path.
She followed the tiny deer a short ways before they found a sight to make her heart stop, and her feet certainly did as well. The enormous stag stood over the still pool, magnificent in shining white and a crown of flowers on his brow. For a moment she stood thunderstruck by the sight, her mind leaping to faeries and quests and wishes granted for those who could catch such a creature. What wishes could the little maid dream up, magic and love and adventure! She raced after the godly messenger, determined to catch the beast and set it free again to win its favor.
Aisling tensed, ready to pursue, but the stag had not bolted at her approach and there was something… something…. The lass’s eyes narrowed, eyes roaming from eye to mismatched eye, and then from ell to bell… And Elodin had brought her there…. Delight spread across her face again and there was wonder in her eyes and in her laugh as it broke like chimes in the quite glade. To any other, the idea might have been absurd, impossible, but Aisling was the rare dreamer. So open was her heart, so accepting of wonders in the world that it did not question that this was indeed her friend. “Kvothe, mo chara! You’re looking a wee bit paler that last we met. Are you feeling quite well?” Her easy laugh came again with the jest. Yes, she would like this company indeed!
Actions in the living world.
Daydreams and foolish fantasies.
“Words spoken aloud.”
Translations: Mo chara. - My friend.
[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 ::
