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 Posted: Thu Jan 22, 2015 2:26 pm
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Quote: The Winged One (September 24 - October 23): Twelve stars form a constellation you've never seen before. (Comet & Evenfall 549 words)
It was not often that Evenfall had time to spend with her father, watching him walk with her with her eyes that looked just like his. But despite him being older than her, he looked the more playful, walking over to touch the puddles of water with his golden hoof as she walked quietly beside him.
"Father--- "
"Shh, shh my Eve. Look up."
And she did, lifting her head up to see that the sky was dimming, the night was closing in on their walk, something she always loved.
"T'was evening in the winter time,
The stars coming out at night," he looked at her expectantly, smiling.
Evenfall smiled back subtly, chuckling a little.
"The swamp filled with snow and rime,
Only two stars moving in the light."
"Beautiful, evening star. Your words are as elegant as the day turning to night."
She kept that peaceful smile, enjoying the rare times she had with her father. Unconventional, as they always kept on adding to each other's poetry, but it was her father's affection towards her and she understood it perfectly. And the moved through the darkness, both starry kimeti walking through the darkness, emitting a gentle faint golden glow in their wake.
Their walk was mostly quiet, both preferring that way once the night came, Comet with his usual gentle smile, occasionally stopping to smell the flowers that settled beside the trees and fauna, Eve quietly telling her father what those flowers were, and facts about them -- Comet responding to her with more poetry. "Red and gold at the sunset hour, there comes the spell of a magic dream!"
When finally the father and daughter pair finally came upon an elevated spot, a large rock formation, a small hill where it was close to the waters and gave them a clear view of the sky. And they settled on their golden and grey hooves, brightly shining just like the stars they watched, Comet humming a gentle song as Eve started to him it will him as well. The doe looked upwards, always mesmerized with a new night to admire, in her head, quietly identifying the constellations that she had formed, herself, almost even memorizing the patterns that the dark sky presented to her. There was the rhythmic song that the cicada's sang to them, soothing waves lapping on the land, the cold breeze that seemed to dance to the song of the night.
Evenfall closed her eyes for a while, content, and then heard Crashing Comet make an over-dramatic sound of surprise, the doe looking over to him, tilting her head, following his eyes up to where he was looking. And lo and behold -- almost a miracle, somehow she hadn't seen these group of stars, and it seemed like her father had the same idea. She looked at the bright lights, knowing each star like they were her friends, able to distinguish them and know where they would be once night came. And she was happy, this meant that there were more of them to be discovered.
"The constellation -- in a beautiful curve, brighter than the stars around them. That is -- the Evenfall constellation." The golden kimeti said affectionately, chuckling at his daughter. And she smiled, laughing softly, soothed. "Thank you, father." And she looked upon it, at peace. |
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Posted: Thu Jan 22, 2015 2:37 pm
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Quote: The Web (October 24 - November 22): An unexpectedly warm day encourages new exploration. (Bare Trees 541 words)
Today was the day!
At least that's what Bare Trees told herself immediately as she woke up from her little resting place, going about the day normally -- tending to her new herb garden, finding more seeds, walking around with Sprig and hunting a foxbun or two.. But she was noticeably tense, making small mistakes in her hunt and Sprig having to fly faster, move faster to cover for her.
"Gah--!! Sorry Sprig.." the doe rested against a thick tree trunk, sighing, looking distantly.
The day was perfect though, it was warmer than the days before, the snow melting mostly and the sun shining brightly on her, greenery around much noticeable, it was clearly telling her that today was the best day for her to finally go on her journey beyond the swamp. At least, that's what she intended. With Sprig flying to her side and slowly pecking at her neck gently in affection, the eagle sat beside the doe for a moment, watching in concern. She let out a huge groan, touching her nose to her loyal companion's wing.
"That dream -- I was in those -- soft sandy hills. I know I said I'd go try to travel to where the achas lived but..." she looked at her friend with big eyes, "I'm terrified, Sprig! What if the dream was a lie? Maybe the sand consumes you! Maybe there are creatures that eat your blood under the sand ---" Sprig stopped her then, ruffing her white wings and shaking her head. She knew she was over-reacting-- and if her parents or sister ever heard her talk about being scared -- now that would be a nightmare. Maybe it wouldn't be that bad! She could take care of Sprig and herself-- she told herself over and over...
"I'll do it!" she suddenly exclaimed, nodding her head confidently -- at least she tried to look it. And of course Sprig followed her faithfully, the doe walking through the swamp for how long, she wasn't keeping track, merely going along and asking others or looking at the ground for signs of where achas could have traveled. And after-- finally, the air turned warmer and she had come upon the land of origin of the dainty achas.
Digging a hoof into the silky sand-- she was at least prepared this time, slowly walking, trying not to struggle too hard if she falls into it, though at times she did-- and she cried out, Sprig confused too at this sand but helping her master up. She was in awe, it was just like her dream!! Though her kiokote friend wasn't there, it wasn't that hospitable, but she liked it--she liked how the warm sand felt on her chilly hooves she liked how ---
Then she turned around a rock, blinking her bright eyes as she stared at something she shouldn't be seeing. It was two achas doing -- their pleasurable, hedonistic ways. Enough to make Bare Trees turn red so much you'd think the heat was getting to her.
She made a little high pitched sound, jumping backwards and landing into a sand dune, drowning a little bit in the sand before her winged friend dove into the earthy ground and helped her up.
She sighed .... at ... least she tried something new. |
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Posted: Thu Jan 22, 2015 5:31 pm
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Quote: The Twins (May 22 - June 21): The birds are out and curious despite the cold. (Bloodless) 290 Words
Cold, cold, cold.
It feels like nothing.
The pale doe stopped in her tracks, the cool wind touching her face, ruffling her pelt, but she felt nothing. But that wasn't new. Bright blue eyes looked up at the vibrant blue sky, a stark contrast to the white, dried woods that winter had left the swamp. She frowned. Soon the cold would leave to bring the bright flowers out. It was too bright. Bloodless did not like that.
However she did enjoy the quiet song that the birds were singing this morning, gentle and sweet, a little songbird serenaded the doe, her vivid eyes closing in quiet wonder.
....
....
The wet cold snow on her hooves didn't bother her, as she was comfortable most with it. The summer sun wasn't something she looked forward too -- too bright, too warm, she felt uncomfortable ----
"Ah." The doe shivered suddenly, but not at all from any type of temperature, but it was from the brightly coloured songbird that flitted on her long antlers, the doe giving it a gentle glance.
Little bird, little bird,
I cannot feel you but.
You feel --- warm.
And the bird sang her a little melody, the doe gently moving her head to the rhythm of the song, humming, herself. But as the songbird moved its wings, it perched on her back -- but not for long, the little bird making a little surprised sound at the coldness and flying away again.
She didn't want it to leave, running towards the flying bird ---- !! But then she actually heard a sound under her hooves, eyes looking downward to find the remains of a songbird, the skull crushed, cold and weathered.
Oh little bird, little bird,
I wish I could hear your song longer. |
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Posted: Sun Jan 25, 2015 5:18 pm
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Quote: The Hunter (July 23 - August 22): In the dream you turn and see no shadow behind you. (Landslide)
Landslide 'woke up', limbs tired and heavy, eyes opening languidly and his heart beating hard against his chest--and even faster now. He couldn't move.
"What... in the... world." His voice was gritty, husky, different, he couldn't even recognize his own voice, it was like a stranger was inside of him and he could hear his thoughts in that voice. It was unnatural, foreign. And Landslide despised this uncertain feeling. He was a buck that withstood danger, fought for his life as evidenced with his torn ear and cracks on his horns, he could withstand the hot, dry, famine of summer and the cold, harsh, unforgiving winters. And of course, one winter he had completely gave himself into. But that was another story.
But oh he tried, he was a hunter, a predator -- he was not one to give up so easily, lifting his heavy limbs that seemed to weigh a ton, muscles aching and his breath hitching -- but finally standing up. Then he felt a strange sensation, his body less heavy than before but what bothered him was that he felt like someone was watching him. And again. He did not like that.
The buck turned his head as quick as he should, this strange environment feeling like everything was in slow motion, though, his short chopped hair swaying slowly with his movement, his feathers swaying to his hair and tail. It wasn't right. It just. wasn't. right. And the kimeti was angry, lips curling upwards and growling, turning his head to the other side when he felt the shadow move -- but he was always greeted with nothing -- nothing was there. But he was so sure of it! And he ran -- as fast as his legs could take him, he ran and ran, looking for this shadow that was chasing, that was circling him. It felt like forever as he ran and ran and ran.
Suddenly a light.
Then he stopped, his green eyes lowered, blinking behind him, a gentle light touching his features. He looked behind him, so sure the shadow would be there ---- but his own shadow caught his attention. It wasn't there.
He heard an eerie sound, head looking right in front if him --- and there was his own shadow, unmistakable, walking towards him. But he took a stance, growling, carrying his body, charging after -- his own shadow.
And then darkness.
----"NGHAH!!---" His breathing was heavy, his hooves tore the leaf that he was laying on, the buck frowning as he looked around him. Everything wasn't real. "Motherfather...." he grunted, resting his head back down for a few seconds. And then he'd hunt. |
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Posted: Sun Jan 25, 2015 5:21 pm
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Quote: The Firefly (January 21 - February 19): Repeating the same line of a poem over and over, unsure how it ends. (Bare Trees)
"I was alone in the cold of a winters day,
Grey light... green trees, was it?"
Bare Trees was never good at poems, or memorizing lines -- or rhyming -- words in general. She sat against a thick snow-covered tree, sighing. It was eating her up so badly. Sprig was up high hunting for some of her own lunch, the doe let Sprig go off on her own. It was the changing trees that reminded her distantly of a song she once heard as a filly, not sure who sang it - sure as day wasn't her mother or father -- so she wondered, who sang this lullaby to her?
"I was alone in the cold of a winters day,
Green trees, grey sky,"
Ah she got those two lines, but what were the next words? She had a piece of fruit in front of her, her favourite ripe, vibrant kind, but it remained untouched, the doe thinking deeply on this riddle. She furrowed her brows, why was this bothering her so much? But -- she had to focus. How did it go again? She was sure it included snuggling up to blankets of leaves of some sort -- or was it being covered with winter snow? She wasn't sure.
"I was alone in the cold of a winters day,
Green trees, grey sky, --
I was alone in the cold of a winters day,
Green trees, grey sky --
Changing seasons --?"
She shook her head, that wasn't it. But more and more she thought about it, the more she thought of who exactly sang it to her. It was more a mystery than the actual poem. |
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