the Rift


[OPEN] Speak Sorrow Until Tomorrow

Aisling the Fae Posts: 112
Absent Abyss atk: 5.5 | def: 9.0 | dam: 4.5
Mare :: Equine :: 13.1 :: 6 :: Birdsong HP: 63 | Buff: NOVICE
Sorcha :: Common Green Dragon :: Fire Breath Laine
#1
 
don't get lost in my lyrics
you won't find your way out


This wanderlust was proving unshakable no matter how much the girl wanted to be free of it. There was inherently unlikeable about any of the places she had visited over the past months but after a time she would always move on. The forests, the meadow, and even the lovely grove of willows that she had loved so dearly when first she came to this land, they all seemed so wretchedly unsatisfying now. Even the people she had met, ships in the night that passed with out making an impression, forming a connection, until the faerie girl began to wonder if she were merely a phantom on this land, passing silently and leaving no trace…Such was her life since Finn and Kvothe had abandoned her taking with them her dream of their traveling troupe.  Where once she had been blithe and bonny, now did the girl wrap herself in melancholy but still she sang.

Her song for this fading afternoon was a sad one, a ballad of her homeland that told of a young man who’d left his sweetheart behind. She hadn’t thought it would make her think so much of how Finn had left her but the sadness welled up as she moved from verse to verse. Innocent and fanciful as she’d been, Aisling had imagined herself to be falling in love with the gentle little stallion and his unannounced departure was so similar to the one that had been passed down in the song. Her gentle voice carried sweetly through the trees, the turning leaves in shades of yellow and orange a suiting scene for the little white lass. In eyes of stormy grey, tears threatened but did not fall; Aisling had always hated to cry, it was such a useless and tiring thing to do.  The tune faded on the last long note and as the song ended her gait faltered and the little mare slowed to a halt. Where to now? the constant question repeated itself in her mind and her barreled chest heaved in a heavy sigh. No where to go that I don’t take this with me…

".”
@Milo

art by imi
[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 ::

Milo Posts: 60
Outcast
Stallion :: Equine :: 16.2 hh :: 2 years [Birdsong]
Jen
#2

Milo

You left and I never came back


These days, I take long walks.

If nothing else I find that in the company of nothing but my own shadow, I can be silent without objection. So often I am in the company of others, of my herd, of men. Always, I am in the company of Manhattan's ghost. But to take long walks on dying afternoons such as this one is to get as close to solitude as I can.

This, I need more than I crave.

Aging suits me well, from an objective standpoint I understand this. Until the pain leaves, however, the slow rise in my height, the evening of my hindered stride, means nothing to me. Should this be a permanent curse, I will always be made a child by the infirmity it casts upon me. This is the sorrow of illness, the disease of the crippling hurt of Gods.

With the sun fading, I am made to think of that God who stood so beautiful that even in days just shortly after my birth, I wanted him. There was something like a unique lust to be something that powerful and strong that as I take slow, painful steps into a shadowed wood, I am reminded of.

I do not think anything hurts a god like that. The Sun God whose body is made of gold, the Earth God who presides over death but makes no note of the sorrow it inflicts on mortal... these are powerful beings.

I am too humbled by the hurt I have seen and felt to think I could ever have such eminence, but when the earth softens beneath my feet and I find myself lost, I wonder if I could at least once experience a life without pain.

As much as I wish to lay down and rest, I've learned quickly that the pain in my spine only cinches tighter, grips more viciously, when I move to the earth. Despite the sharpness of my listening, the wide scope of my soft ears, my eyesight cannot keep up. There is, in the near distance, a dying and heart-wrenching song. I know its beauty, I understand its proximity, but I have no hope at finding it on my own. A soft whinny, not so much seeking as answering sorrowfully, as mutually pained, escapes my lips and my teeth clack in a childlike gesture that I, with my soft mouth, have not yet outgrown. I once saw my father make the same noise, the same clattering of teeth that cries out to the world: do not hurt me, for I am but a child and this world has more danger than I ever knew of before this moment.

I only pitied him, then. I did not yet quite understand how much hurt this world really contained.

""

image credits


Sorry I didn't see this! Darn tags. Just message me on skype when you reply. :)

@Aisling

Aisling the Fae Posts: 112
Absent Abyss atk: 5.5 | def: 9.0 | dam: 4.5
Mare :: Equine :: 13.1 :: 6 :: Birdsong HP: 63 | Buff: NOVICE
Sorcha :: Common Green Dragon :: Fire Breath Laine
#3
 
don't get lost in my lyrics
you won't find your way out


It had been a long while since Aisling had expected an audience for her songs, let alone an answer, but low and behold one came to her. Quiet and mournful as her own voice had been the whinny finds its way to her through the shadowed trees.

For a moment she stood, breathless, and waited for the call to come again but it did not repeat itself immediately. The faerie girl had been in this wood enough to know how it played tricks. Especially now, at the end of orange moon with the trans half bare and the wily wind at play. Any sound might only have been the whispering of leaves, and any path looked much the same from both directions: a fortress of solitude, if that’s what one sought. Aisling never wanted solitude, it was much to easy to be sad when she was on her own. It must have been someone. Please, let it be someone.

“Hello, be there anyone there?” she spoke into the silence, voice raised but slightly tremulous. She listened for the space of one heartbeat, maybe too, before moving in the direction she’d thought the sound had come from. She picked her wary though the brambles with care, letting out a quite whinny herself every so often and pausing to wait for a response before surging on.

She had been sad, damn it, and so had that call that answered and in her mind there could be no simpler balm than good company and that made the stout little mare all the more determined to find someone! Some might've said it was luck that she found the colt so soon, though Aisling would always name it as fate. He was a skinny thing, all the gangrenes of youth, but she was quick to notice that he seemed to lack a child usual exuberance. Perhaps the poor dear is scared, what is he doing out here all alone? Not wishing to frighten or startle she kept her voice quiet an gentle when she called and kept her distance initially—not that she would make anyone nervous, in fact she was barely taller that the young man anyway. “Hello lad, are you the one who called? My name is Aisling.” She took a few careful steps forward. “May I walk with you?”

".”
[ooc: @Milo
art by imi
[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 ::

Milo Posts: 60
Outcast
Stallion :: Equine :: 16.2 hh :: 2 years [Birdsong]
Jen
#4

Milo

You left and I never came back


It is not long before the songstress finds me. Here in the woods one expects eternal solitude, endless fields of shadow and a lack of companionship. The mare that appears before me, white as innocent snow and decorated meekly, defies this expectation. She finds me like rain, she finds me like the wind or mortality or other inescapable, inexplicable things.

She is small but not timid, searching but not wheedling. The company she seeks is such that I can provide, the protection that she offers is the sort I do not recognize. A walk is not much to offer, her name without any other prompting is, to a son of Knox, much more. I will not tell her my name. I do not speak. It is not as if my name is really said much anymore, anyway.

I consider the question. May I walk with you? So simple and lacking further motivation. Just a walk. As I go on long walks, she wishes to join me. I have no reason to decline, no reason to accept. I merely tilt my head, nodding dumbly at the sound of her name, and then take another slow step forward. It will be her choice to walk with me, the child who hangs his head and kinks his hind to offset the hurt in his spine.

Softly, I let her song replay in my mind. It is beautiful and haunting, like memories I cannot forget. I wonder what has made her hurt, what has made such sorrow form to notes in her mouth. Without intention, without realizing, I begin to hum the notes she sang in a minor key, one unfamiliar and awkward as it escapes me. It is only when I notice the song that I look back to her, that I pause my painful continuance to see if she will follow. The last note, trailing off, raises like a question or two. Why would she choose to follow? Why sing such sorrowful songs?


""

image credits


@Aisling

Aisling the Fae Posts: 112
Absent Abyss atk: 5.5 | def: 9.0 | dam: 4.5
Mare :: Equine :: 13.1 :: 6 :: Birdsong HP: 63 | Buff: NOVICE
Sorcha :: Common Green Dragon :: Fire Breath Laine
#5
don't get lost in my lyrics
you won't find your way out


He does not answer, does not speak a single word, and Aisling finds herself intrigued by this colt that defies her expectations. Every child she had ever encountered, including herself and her brothers had been quick to chatter and quicker to play; tiny containers with boundless energy inside. She herself had been and endless font of questions and giggles in her youth and yet this little one is quiet and subdued. Poor lad, what ever has got you so done this early in your young life? The boy nods despondently, and the faerie's eyes narrow in a rather maternal concern. Study emotion, the Sun had said, but she would have gladly given up an opportunity for her "studies" in order to find a happy child.

If ever there was a sure way to banish sadness from Aisling's mind it was to find it in another. Her emotions were always flighty things, easily picked up and laid down but if there was a choice to be made she desire was always for the good over the bad. She had a drive to brighten, to uplift those around her and though she found herself jealous of joy or love in other's lives she could never revel in their misery.

He moves away and she falls in step, even if he had tried to refuse her company she might have pushed. How could she walk away now, from a boy who needed cheering up?  Even if he hadn't been alone in the woods it would have been unacceptable. So she took the place beside him, listening as he echoed a few noted of the old song. An odd way to make a connection perhaps, but she smiled warmly at the boy when he let the notes trail off and looked back. Aisling gave an encouraging nod, Where you go, I'll follow. 

"It's an old song my gran used to sing." She starts, keeping her voice gentle. "It's about a lad who flees his home and the girl he leaves behind. 'Tis a bit of a sad tale and it  seems it always comes back to me when I'm feeling down." She lets the silence carry them on for a moment, taking slow, strolling steps and waiting for him to speak up. "I hope you've not left your home lad, tis not all it's made out to be." Perhaps she shouldn't have left her own island... She'd been wondering about that as of late. She'd struck out adventure but would it not be better to go home having found none?

"."
[ooc: @Milo I didn't realize I forgot to put it in before but this it the song she was signing.]

art by imi
[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 ::

Milo Posts: 60
Outcast
Stallion :: Equine :: 16.2 hh :: 2 years [Birdsong]
Jen
#6

Milo

You left and I never came back


I can't say that I'm surprised that she follows me. I seem to be a target for the concerned affection of others. Perhaps it's my size or posture, so twisted and warped at such a young age. My legs that move slow and awkward, my back with its permanent kink. Even my hooves, feeling and looking so heavy. That sugar cube of lead, as if it might drag me into some criminal's ocean.

I do not break my silence, not even for so much as a loud breath. Every inhale is a quiet reply of its one, let her hear it or not. And just as I am not surprised that she follows, I am not surprised that eventually she breaks the quiet. She tells me of her song, of the tale that it tells. I hear no tale in its tune, read nothing but wordless sorrow in its notes. Let her find the words that I cannot; I will remain, as ever, silent. My head hangs, and sorrow fills my eyes as ever. If she's perceptive enough, if she's even looking, perhaps she'll see the grief with which I am so afflicted.

When she speaks though, of home, cautioning me not to leave it, I shake my head. Perhaps it's a no, perhaps it's just a movement. I'm not certain of the answer even myself. But it's a motion nonetheless, one followed by a swift swerve in my path. I should go home, and if this mare wishes to learn of a new one, let her follow me. The regret in her voice is not unfamiliar, it's something I've seen in so many.

I lift my gaze, catching hers only for a brief second before tossing my head towards the distant Falls and whinnying. The motion is repeated, but the noise echoes only once. This is the way to my home, whatever the very thing means.

This, anyway, is the way to the place I was born.

""

image credits


@Aisling Sorry for the wait

Aisling the Fae Posts: 112
Absent Abyss atk: 5.5 | def: 9.0 | dam: 4.5
Mare :: Equine :: 13.1 :: 6 :: Birdsong HP: 63 | Buff: NOVICE
Sorcha :: Common Green Dragon :: Fire Breath Laine
#7
[quote='Aisling' pid='170524' dateline='1455037683']
don't get lost in my lyrics
you won't find your way out

The little la was a mystery indeed, and there was more than a small part of her the simply wanted to ask what was wrong, but he had not spoken yet and while  that stilled the blunt questions it made her all the more curious. A silent child… how novel. How sad! He has not said a word but its not as if he can make no sound at all. Because surely the boy had whinnied , had called her to him, and he and hummed back her song, and with another motion of his head he gave another whinny to indicate… well to indicate something.

Experience could not tell the little mare how to proceed; she never encountered such a boy, nor had she ever expected too. Could he speak and just chose not to? Was he afraid to? Maybe he simply didn’t understand. Perhaps he speaks another language, and that is why he made no answer! A light came into her eyes at that realization and as she kept pace beside his she thought of the best way to test that theory. Working to keep her tone match to how she had spoken before, Aisling asked another question but this time in her native tongue. “An é sin i gcás ina luíonn tú sa bhaile ansin, sa talamh de easanna?” She watched hime carefully trying to discern if he seemed to understand these words any more or less than her previous statements. If he had understood her talk of homes, then perhaps he had been trying to tell her where he was from. It would be the least she could do to be sure he made it back there safely.

"."
[ooc: @Milo OMG I AM THE WORST! so sorry!]

art by imi
[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 ::

Milo Posts: 60
Outcast
Stallion :: Equine :: 16.2 hh :: 2 years [Birdsong]
Jen
#8

Milo

You left and I never came back


Her pace matches mine and I cannot help but wonder why she slows herself so for me. True, and as has already been established, I seem to be marked with a red x in terms of needing others to care for me, but that doesn't mean I'm used to it. With a mother now gone and a father lost in himself, I can remember only the touch of my uncle.

Even that, coming from such a behemoth, had felt strange. I am thankful that, if nothing else, this mare does not touch me as we walk. She seems to understand that such a distance must remain for now.

What comes next, though, is a puzzling surprise. At the first hint of voice from her lips I pause, slowing the drag of my hooves until they have ceased entirely. My gold eyes settle on her; my silver-backed ears swivel to catch every syllable. But what she speaks to me is its own sort of nonsense, something as incomprehensible as I imagine my silence is to her.

Knowing nothing that I can say I only snort, shake my head, shut my eyes, and turn away. Just keep walking, keep moving towards home. My tail swishes and my pace quickens ever so slightly, as much as I can manage. The necklace that I wear swings and thumps against my chest, the liquid in it threatening to burn its container. The hissing of blood is a permanent reminder of how I am hurt. I do not want her catering to my disease, whether that be a crooked spine or the eternal weight of loss.

""

image credits


@Aisling


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