“I sing the Poppy! The frail snowy weed! The flower of Mercy!
that within its heart Doth keep "a drop serene" for human need,
A drowsy balm for every bitter smart.
For happy hours the Rose will idly blow--
The Poppy hath a charm for pain and woe.”
that within its heart Doth keep "a drop serene" for human need,
A drowsy balm for every bitter smart.
For happy hours the Rose will idly blow--
The Poppy hath a charm for pain and woe.”
- Mary A. Barr, White Poppies
SLEEP is a gentle, aloof Kimeti who, like her namesake would suggest, is often lost in her own dreamy interpretation of the swamp. She is well-suited for her position as a Legendary, holding within her a deep understanding of the simplicity and joy of life and letting things come to pass with little issue -- "there is a path set out for all by the swamp, and one must take the good with the bad". Sleep takes her duties to the swamp very seriously and although she's never birthed a clutch, she likes to think the swamp chose her based on her Maternal instinct. She wanders the plains in a slow delirium, always in search of expectant mothers to bless or lost foals in need of nurture. She is adaptable and trusts the swamp completely, and it would seem her calm and optimism is unshakable.
Likes Sunshine, Naps, Flowers, Foals, Sweet Foods, Fireflies
Dislikes Cold Days, Mud, Confrontation, Fire, The 'Special Drink'
Dislikes Cold Days, Mud, Confrontation, Fire, The 'Special Drink'
Roleplay(s)
• Dark Swamp with Lost Light (First Meeting)
• A New Day with Haze-After-Dusk (First Meeting)
__BLOODLINES________________________
Mother Unknown
Father Unknown
Siblings Unknown
Mated To None
Past Mates None
Offspring None
Grandchildren None
__KINSHIP____________________________
Tribe(s) None
Bonds None
Friends None
Acquaintances Lost Light
__PETS | FAMILIARS___________________
Naming Dream
When she first opened her eyes, everything was Gray.
Her hooves did not touch the dirt, and she was quite alone in the darkness. Save for the unfriendly hushing of the wavering wind between ink colored trees, all was silent. The broken sound scape was constantly threatening, and so afraid was she to fall asleep that she never once closed her eyes.
She had waited so long, suspended in the shade of a sad sky, and the youngling was so frightfully tired- but so suddenly was the filly met by an ocean of swaying orange and violet that her heart climbed into her throat, catching the awe of her voice lest it be stolen by the now dying wind. The angry gray had given birth to a painted landscape. Millions of lazy headed flowers billowed without a breeze before her. They hypnotized, beckoning in a youthful, spring time fashion...This was her home. This is what she had been waiting for.
Heavy eyes and trembling feet followed a trail of burning color to the horizon where an equally magnificent curtain of blues and grays painted the sky. So unfamiliar were these colors, and they stung her eyes painfully, but they shone upon her until her coat became so full it sprang forth a mirror of the lovely pastels. Pleasantly surprised by the death of her once gray coat, the foal pressed on eagerly, seeking solace in the warm field of many colors.
She approached a mighty trunk, having risen to meet her where flowers had once lain. The single tree, heavy with fruit and fowl, bent his boughs to her. Dark fruits split and speckled her coat with brighter shades as they wavered amongst the branches. The filly lowered her head weakly, longing to taste the spilled juices, but they had already joined the earth. A bird called her from her melancholy - no, it couldn't have been, for all the birds slept upon the fruited tree. How strange, she thought, that the winged creatures would be satisfied and recumbent amongst the tilting tree.
The voice whispered again, bringing life to her once flattened ears. She understood the foreign tongue and raised her delicate eyes to the sky - it was the sun who addressed her. The circlet spoke without words, illuminating and warming, and a blanket of soft yellow light draped over her invitingly. Her bloody eyes and aching limbs were caressed by the brilliance of the sun, bringing forth her unquenchable fatigue. Knowing no creature's language, the fawn pleaded silently for respite.
Having seen her cold and lonely before time, the sun did not protest. The stream of light he projected settled over a grove of poppies, and the filly followed. She found her home below the heads of those lazy flowers, their scent whispering a thousand tales of starless slumber. The air was heavy with sleep through the day and the birds never rose to greet her, nor did the flowers hide their faces. She waited with the sun 'til dusk, reclining alongside vibrant green stems, but never did dusk come.
Only to blink did she close her eyes, and only for a moment - and forever was she lost behind them...
Her hooves did not touch the dirt, and she was quite alone in the darkness. Save for the unfriendly hushing of the wavering wind between ink colored trees, all was silent. The broken sound scape was constantly threatening, and so afraid was she to fall asleep that she never once closed her eyes.
She had waited so long, suspended in the shade of a sad sky, and the youngling was so frightfully tired- but so suddenly was the filly met by an ocean of swaying orange and violet that her heart climbed into her throat, catching the awe of her voice lest it be stolen by the now dying wind. The angry gray had given birth to a painted landscape. Millions of lazy headed flowers billowed without a breeze before her. They hypnotized, beckoning in a youthful, spring time fashion...This was her home. This is what she had been waiting for.
Heavy eyes and trembling feet followed a trail of burning color to the horizon where an equally magnificent curtain of blues and grays painted the sky. So unfamiliar were these colors, and they stung her eyes painfully, but they shone upon her until her coat became so full it sprang forth a mirror of the lovely pastels. Pleasantly surprised by the death of her once gray coat, the foal pressed on eagerly, seeking solace in the warm field of many colors.
She approached a mighty trunk, having risen to meet her where flowers had once lain. The single tree, heavy with fruit and fowl, bent his boughs to her. Dark fruits split and speckled her coat with brighter shades as they wavered amongst the branches. The filly lowered her head weakly, longing to taste the spilled juices, but they had already joined the earth. A bird called her from her melancholy - no, it couldn't have been, for all the birds slept upon the fruited tree. How strange, she thought, that the winged creatures would be satisfied and recumbent amongst the tilting tree.
The voice whispered again, bringing life to her once flattened ears. She understood the foreign tongue and raised her delicate eyes to the sky - it was the sun who addressed her. The circlet spoke without words, illuminating and warming, and a blanket of soft yellow light draped over her invitingly. Her bloody eyes and aching limbs were caressed by the brilliance of the sun, bringing forth her unquenchable fatigue. Knowing no creature's language, the fawn pleaded silently for respite.
Having seen her cold and lonely before time, the sun did not protest. The stream of light he projected settled over a grove of poppies, and the filly followed. She found her home below the heads of those lazy flowers, their scent whispering a thousand tales of starless slumber. The air was heavy with sleep through the day and the birds never rose to greet her, nor did the flowers hide their faces. She waited with the sun 'til dusk, reclining alongside vibrant green stems, but never did dusk come.
Only to blink did she close her eyes, and only for a moment - and forever was she lost behind them...
